


Dignity of Dragons

by etrix



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anthropomorphic, Big Bang Challenge, Challenge Response, Dragons, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Serious Injuries, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-15
Updated: 2012-05-15
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etrix/pseuds/etrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Technically, Harley found the lizard (which was actually a dragon!) and Jared took it home because it was hurt (even though his mama had said no more pets). It was okay though, because Jared didn't intend to keep it. In fact, it had to have escaped from one of the government zoos (and having it in the house was probably dangerous), so Jared planned on returning it (but the dragon had plans of his own).</p><p>Featuring a (nearly) 17-year-old Jared, his family, and his family's pets (which include 2 dogs, 1 bird, 1 gerbil and 2 turtles) and Jensen as the dragon (of course).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lost and Borrowed

**Author's Note:**

> Visit [sophiap](http://sophiap.livejournal.com/)'s [art masterpost](http://sophiap.livejournal.com/239893.html) and let her know what you think. (I think it's awesome!)
> 
> The soundtrack is available to listen to on [ 8tracks](http://8tracks.com/etrix/dignity-of-dragons-st).
> 
> One last thing: The views contained in this story pertaining to animal rights and the place of zoos in our society are not necessarily my personal beliefs. I chose the ones that fit the characters and the needs of the plot. I will not discuss zoos, animals rights, or any of that, _except as it pertains to the story_. Thank you.

* * *

  
ARLEY FOUND THE LIZARD. Only Harley could have, because he was the only one big enough and curious (or stupid) enough to push through the brambles guarding the ravine behind their new place. They'd moved to Kansas in January, halfway through the school year, and it sucked. It was spring break and all his friends were back in Texas, so Jared had nothing to do for fun but walk his dogs along the wooded ravine and hope that the _Texas Chainsaw Massacre_ hadn't actually taken place in Kansas.

Not that he minded the walk. Sadie, his German shepherd-dingo cross was well-behaved and smart. She stuck close by so that he'd have company. Harley however… Harley was a mastiff-something puppy, and obedience training was barely sticking to his tiny canine brain.

Jared whistled at Harley when the big mutt first started pushing into the dense bush, but the silly puppy just barked happily and pushed his way in, wuffing and sniffing as if he were a bloodhound. He stirred some dirt up from the dry ground and sneezed, stirring up more dust. Lawrence, Kansas, wasn't supposed to be a desert, but it certainly seemed dry enough to Jared for it to almost qualify as one.

"Oh, jeez, Harley," Jared said in disgust when he and Sadie reached the spot where the mastiff had disappeared. Those weren't merely bushes. Those were _raspberry_ bushes with their sharp, little thorns and plenty of them.

He thought of calling Harley out, but when he listened to the dog's excited yips, he knew it would be no good. He'd only had the dog for a couple of months, rescued from the shelter he worked at part-time. Despite his size, Harley was still a puppy, so he could go in after Harley right now, or he could call, be ignored, get annoyed, and _then_ go in after Harley. Either way he was going to have to go in after Harley.

Through the brambles, then.

Jared sighed in resignation. "Sit," he said to Sadie. She dropped her butt to the ground. "Stay," he said, and she opened her mouth to pant and drool. Jared had no fears she would wander off. Sadie was barely a year older physically, but she was eons more mature in behavior.

He looked at the skinny tunnel Harley had followed and wanted to groan. The dog had maybe made it bigger, but not by much. There was no way he could go through the dry, thorny hedge without getting scratched. To minimize the damage, he pulled the sleeves of his hoodie all the way down over his hands, pulled his hood all the way over his head to his nose. Then he scrunched down in an attempt to make himself Harley-sized so he could fit through the tunnel his dog had already created. He felt kind of like Alice going through the rabbit hole but without the funky mushrooms or the talking animals.

He wasn't doing too badly until Harley howled in panic. Jared jumped, jabbing himself on several large branches and a couple bushels of thorns. "Ouch! Shit," he yelped.

"Jeez, Harley. Settle down, boy!" he called out. "Settle!" he called again when Sadie whined unhappily behind him .

A wet nose and a wetter tongue hit his face. It was unexpected enough that Jared didn't think to grab Harley's collar. Then the dog was gone.

"Uggh, dog spit," Jared said, mostly for form's sake. He actually didn't mind being drooled and slobbered on. Precious, his sister's gerbil, peed when he was picked up. Jared made sure not to put his hand under Precious until the rodent got it out of his system. It was one of the reasons why he looked after Precious, and not his sister. It turned out that looking after tiny, nervous pets were a lot more work and a lot less fun than Megan had thought when she'd begged their parents for a gerbil, so Jared looked after him.

Jared also looked after Reggie and Jackson, his brother's Painted Box turtles. Jared was looking after them because Jeff was at college and didn't have the time right now, but Jeff planned on taking his turtles back when he finished. As Jeff was pre-Med, it was going to be a while.

Then there was Olive, his mother's caique. He sometimes looked after her, because the bird got bored when she was by herself and apparently Harley was always good for a tease. The dog never seemed to mind being the butt of the little parrot's jokes. He just let his tongue hang out and waited for sympathetic pets from Jared. He really was a big, goofy guy.

Who was currently yipping in worry when Jared didn't follow him quickly enough.

"I'm coming, you goof," Jared muttered. "Some of us don't have fur to protect us." Or maybe it was the lack of brains that was critical.

"Okay, boy," he puffed as he finally made it through the barrier. "What's got you so excited?" Harley was squatting close to something that looked like a little wet log. Or it could've been a log except it was breathing… and it had legs. And was that blood?

It chirruped, a pitiful sound that drew Jared to it immediately. Yup, it was blood.

The little animal—a lizard, he saw—had big, vivid green eyes, pupils huge as it stared at him. Considering it was the middle of the day and this spot, although shaded, wasn't dark, enlarged pupils probably weren't a good sign.

"Shit." Jared didn't know anything about lizards except they were generally cold-blooded and they ate bugs. Not very useful considering the nearest supply of bugs was back home with the turtles.

A ragged piece of skin hung from a deep gouging scratch that ran along its back to its back leg. The skin looked like it was supposed to join up somehow but there was nothing there, just the white of exposed bone. \Something had hurt it very badly. Forget the bugs; he needed to make sure it wasn't going to die right away. He looked for more injuries, trailing a gentle finger over the parts of its body he could reach without shifting it. It made a sharp, pain-filled hiss and Jared snatched his finger away.

What the hell was he going to do if he _did_ find more injuries?

His job at the shelter was in aftercare: feeding, cleaning, exercising—getting the animals ready to go to a good home. He'd never done any frontline emergency stuff. All he could do is take it out of here and get it to a vet's.

Well, there _was_ one thing he could do right away. It was a good bet that with the shock of the injury and the loss of blood, the animal needed water, and he had a bottle full of water in his backpack. He could either go out and come back with the water, or take the lizard with him the first time.

Decision made, he pulled off his hoodie. He would use it as a blanket to both protect and carry the animal.

He put his hands around the little body, and lifted the lizard to shift it onto his makeshift stretcher. That was when he made another discovery: the torn skin was actually the remains of a wing. It was ragged, ripped, and barely any of it remained, but it if the lizard had one wing…

He tipped the lizard carefully forward, and the other wing flopped out.

Jared hadn't found a lizard.

He'd found a _dragon_.

He froze at the realization before another pitiful mewling sound brought him back to the present. Harley was cleaning the wound. "Down, Harley!" Jared said firmly and the mastiff puppy looked at him with worried eyes. "Yeah, I know dog spit's supposed to be anti-bacterial; it's still gotta hurt."

Great. Now he was reassuring a _dog_.

Jared carefully moved the dragon onto his folded hoodie.

He wondered which zoo the dragon had escaped from. America had twenty zoos with dragon enclosures but Kansas City was the closest. If this one had escaped, would the Governor of Missouri declare a state of emergency? Would he call out the National Guard? It wouldn't be a completely impossible response. Losing a national treasure would be very, very bad for his re-election chances.

"Shh, it's okay it's gonna be okay." He crooned to it the same way he did when he was taking thorns out of the dogs' paws. It chirruped weakly in response, but didn't panic as he wrapped it in his shirt. He made sure there was a nice thick pad over the damaged wing to act as a bandage, but he didn't cover its face. It had to be scared enough, what with Harley and then him looming over it.

"We need to get out of here first and then I'll give you some water. Hopefully you don't have any internal injuries because water would be bad, but I still think you probably need liquids. Hydration is always important but 'specially when you've lost a lot of fluids, and I think you've lost a _lot_ of fluids." It chirped as if it could understand what Jared was saying, so Jared kept up the patter as he shuffle-crawled back through the brambles. He wondered if the dragon was a male or a female. There had to be a way to tell but Jared didn't know it.

"It's gonna be alright, girl," he said, picking a sex at random. (It was so _small_ , like his mama and his sister.)

The dragon made an odd clicking noise, like hitting rocks together, and then what sounded like a fart, or that thing bullfrogs did—croaking. She croaked.

Jared hoped it wasn't a sign that she was getting worse.

When he emerged, Sadie was where he'd left her, although she'd moved from sitting to lying delicately on her paws. She raised herself back up when she saw him. She whined in concern, but waited for him to give the word. Harley, of course, didn't care that Sadie was busy proving she could be trusted. He rushed up to her and barked excitedly—Jared imagined he was telling her all about what he'd found—and nearly knocked her over.

"Harley, settle," Jared ordered and the mastiff mostly stopped trying to crawl all over the smaller dog. Sadie continued to wait for her release.

"Good dog, Sadie!" he said pointedly.

Jared made sure he was stable, sitting cross-legged with the dragon lying in the bowl of his thighs, before he released Sadie. She came over to sniff cautiously and the dragon chittered lightly. Then Sadie sat back down, as if relieved. And as he'd expected, Harley came with her—but not cautiously. He licked the dragon (and Jared's hoodie) with abandon. The little dragon made that odd clicking sound again, but this time it didn't sound angry, just resigned.

Jared pushed him away and, with a firm voice, commanded, "Leave it!" Harley knew that tone, those words, and he flopped to his stomach and groveled. Jared glared at him for a long moment, letting him know this was serious, before giving the dog a small scratch behind the ears.

"Okay, so first off is water." Jared poured some into his right palm. He tucked it under the dragon's head, so she wouldn't have to move, and tipped the water carefully into her open mouth. She swallowed. Jared waited until she opened her mouth again before tipping more in. Her tongue came out and rubbed over his palm. It was a little rough, like a cat's, and it tickled, but Jared obediently poured more water into his hand.

"That's a good girl," Jared crooned. She clicked back at him and nipped at his hand. It almost hurt because her teeth were sharp, but she'd put hardly any effort into the bite. It was certainly less painful than having Olive bite him with her sharp little beak.

He filled his palm twice more before he noticed that she seemed better. Her eyes were clearer and she seemed more alert. "You're doing really good girl," he said as she lapped up more water. She gave him another little nip.

Jared wondered if the dragon was hungry. Legend said if you fed an injured dragon a cow, it would heal any injury. There were even stories about them coming back from death, but that was probably not true. Truth was, he had no idea about the recuperative power of real dragons.

"Can you eat a cow and come back from death's door?" he asked her with a laugh.

He had to laugh because, even with her tail, she was barely as long as his forearm, so maybe a foot and a half? He thought that was about average for a dragon. If big, cow-eating dragons had ever existed, they were long gone. No extra-huge-sized dragon bones had ever been found, and historians were pretty sure all the stories were just ego and bragging. A result of the whole 'mine's bigger than yours' mentality.

"No worries, though," he said. "I like you the way you are. Easier to carry, that's for sure."

He shrugged on his backpack, and then bent down to carefully lift her. "Besides, even if you could eat a whole cow, we don't have one at home," he continued. "And, although my brother, Jeff, may be about the same size as a small cow, I can't let you eat Jeff 'cuz he _is_ my brother. Wouldn't matter anyway, he's at college, learning how to be a doctor. A human doctor, not an animal one, which is too bad because then I'd phone him for advice on how to make you better."

He kept up the monologue as he cut across the field. He'd remembered that dragons were considered social animals, forming loose networks, called "prides" around their chosen areas. Plus, historically (emphasis on the 'story' part) dragons always hung around their home villages, listening in on weddings and other celebrations, taking part in the humans' daily lives, Depending on the legend, sometimes the dragons were visible, chatting to the townspeople, and sometimes they were invisible, unseen caretakers getting rid of dangers that threatened 'their' humans.

Jared had always believed those tales were bunk. Dragons perching on tree limbs and chatting to the mayor? Yeah right! But now he was beginning to believe it. The little dragon really seemed to be listening and understanding. When he stopped talking, she made noises as if she wanted him to continue. Maybe it helped her keep her mind off her pain? So Jared told her about his family: his sister Megan, who was a wicked-ass mathlete; his dad, who'd burnt out as a high-priced corporate lawyer and now worked as counsel for one of Lawrence's universities. It was why they'd moved from San Antonio, where he'd grown up, to here. He talked about his hometown and how much he missed it. He told the dragon about the Alamo and the Spurs, because no story about San Antone would be complete without them.

Then he told the little dragon about how his mother had gotten her name on the list of substitute teachers for the district and was bouncing around from school to school, barely getting part-time hours. She was a good teacher, but it was tough being the new person and finding a way into an established system. Jared hadn't realized that adults had the same trouble as kids when starting somewhere new, until he'd watched his mama try to get a full-time teaching job here in Lawrence. "Mama's an English teacher," Jared said to the dragon. "But she's been teaching History, and even a Business Skills class, as a temp. Doing whatever she can to get a chance to fit, you know. Just like me."

He talked about switching schools in the last year, and how much it hurt that he wouldn't graduate with his friends. He was having a hard time making any new ones. There were only a couple months left in the school year and everyone was going away to college anyway. And they made fun of his accent, and his height, and his name…

The dragon made a rude noise, as if telling him to stop whining.

"You know, I think I'm going to call you 'Jenny' after my girlfriend back home. She had green eyes, same as you, _and_ she was always nagging at me," he said when the new house came into view.

Jenny made a harsh, clicking sound, as if she were scolding Jared.

"It wasn't my fault we split up," he defended himself. "I didn't cheat on her or anything. It was just… We were moving, and she didn't want to be alone."

Jenny trilled and the sound was comforting, like the dragon knew what it was like to be alone. She really did seem to understand what he was saying… Of course, she couldn't, despite the legends, but it was nice to pretend.

He walked up the back steps and into the old farmhouse his parents had decided to buy. Five bedrooms, four bathrooms, living room, den _and_ family room. It was the house they'd needed back when Jeff was still at home and they'd had his friends and Jared's and Megan's all piling into the same space. Now it was just big.

Opera was blaring from the dining room, and Olive was whistling along, which meant his mama was in there working. They had an office now, but she'd had always used the dining room table to organize her week's papers and reports and essays. Having a new office hadn't changed that.

"Hi, Mama," he called loud enough to be heard over the noise, but not making the mistake of sticking his head in. He might let in a breeze, which would then blow all her papers off the table. He'd done that once. He'd had to help pick-up and sort all those papers and reports and essays, and she'd read _bits_ of them at him, all with the opera blaring. He'd never risked blowing her papers around again.

"Jared, honey," she answered from the dining room. "Did you enjoy your walk?"

"Um…" He looked down Jenny. His parents had forbidden him from bringing home any more stray animals. He wondered if they'd lift the embargo for a living treasure. "It was nice."

"That's good. Make sure to wipe down the dogs."

"I will, Mama," he promised. And he would. Just as soon as he'd seen to Jenny.

He carefully avoided the dining room, taking the narrow back stairs up to the second floor to the bedroom that had been converted into the pet room. Precious, the gerbil, was an immobile fuzzball in his sawdust and paper. Of the painted turtles, Jackson might have been kidnapped by aliens for all Jared could see of him, but Reggie was soaking in their pond. Usually, he would stop and say hello to them all, but today he rushed past them as he took the dragon into the small bathroom that this room shared with the one next door.

He had a plan.

He'd fill up the sink and put Jen in the water. That way he could get her clean and, if needed, he could soak his hoodie, too. While that was happening, he'd find out how to bind the wound by searching the internet, and find out which zoo had lost a dragon at the same time.

Easy.

He snorted at the thought.

Jared shifted Jen to rest on one arm so he could turn on the water. Harley wanted to come in, too, which was a bad idea because he'd take up all the limited floor space. Sadie actually stopped him by blocking the door. Harley, unhappy at losing access to his newest favorite thing, started barking. Big, unhappy 'woofs' that echoed off the tiled surfaces. "Harley, enough!" Jared ordered. Harley paused, and started howling, which was worse.

Jared tried again. Hell, _Sadie_ even nipped at him, but he wouldn't stop. Not until Jenny hissed at him and clicked in annoyance, did Harley turn off the crying. He even sat down.

Jared was impressed.

"I guess dragons _can_ animal-whisper," he said to Sadie, who yawned in response and walked back into the main pet room.

That had always been the dragon gift of fable he'd envied most—the ability to talk to other animals. There were stories of dragons talking to people, too. Not everyone, of course. It would hardly be interesting if everyone could do it, but there was usually some mythic hero blessed (or cursed) by the gods to fulfill 'A Destiny' by being a dragon-speaker. Usually, those stories never ended well for the hero, condemned by his (or her) unnatural abilities to never achieve peace in life or reach Heaven after death.

"Still, it would be cool if you could actually talk," he said to her. "Then you could tell me what the hell I'm supposed to be doing, right?"

Small air sacs under her cheek expanded. When they collapsed, Jen made a sound like a burp mixed with a wet raspberry. It was a supremely unconcerned and slightly mocking sound, and it reassured Jared that whatever he was doing was fine with her. That was good to know, because it was time to unwrap her. He set her on the counter and carefully peeled his hoodie off. One layer, two—until all that was left was the sleeve he'd bunched up to make the bandage. He gave it a gentle pull. It resisted. Jenny hissed unhappily.

Damn, it was stuck fast.

He slipped Jenny into the water, making sure the sleeve was fully covered.

The bathroom sink was one of those shallow shell-types that encouraged the water to splash all over everywhere, so even as tiny as Jenny was, there was no danger of her drowning. In fact, she seemed to like the way it cradled her. She put her front legs up on the edge of the shallow bowl, and rested her head on them, like humans did at swimming pools.

"Yeah, you're a rock star," Jared teased as he dribbled water onto the blood-hardened cloth. "And if you're the Star, I guess I'm your Cabana Boy."

She didn't bother responding, unless the muted burp thing was a response.

The patches behind her cheeks he'd taken for a hard ridge turned out to be a ruff that she spread out and used to splash water over her face. A long tongue flicked out and gathered the dripping water.

"You like the water, huh?" Jared said with a grin as she swished her tail through it and splashed them both. She blinked and chirruped softly, and Jared was pretty sure she already felt a hundred percent better.

He lifted the sleeve of his hoodie and poured more water on the join. He didn't pull, just poured the water over the wound and let it dissolve the blood binding them together. It was also cleaning the old blood off the rest of the dragon's body. Enough that Jared could see Jen's coloring clearly for the first time, and it made him pause.

There was a pattern, of course. All dragons had patterns that revealed their matriarchal line, but it was the _colors_ that caught Jared's attention. They were subtle on the back, shading from bottle green to grey with touches of black and kiwi, and her belly was absolutely vibrant. Lime green and pale mint, so bright it was almost like how the old legends described them.

It was certainly unlike any dragon he'd ever heard of but maybe Kansas City had gotten a new dragon from someplace exotic. Jared didn't follow the news from the dragon enclosures; they always seemed kind of sad. When he did read about dragons, he much preferred reading modern fiction. Dragons in space—how was he supposed to resist that?

Jared kept stroking the parts of Jenny's body he could safely touch, taking his time to slowly ease the sleeve of his hoodie off the wound. Still, it was a bit of a surprise when it finally came free.

He tossed the hoodie into the shower where it landed with a 'plop'.

Now Jared could see the whole wound and it looked horrific. The shoulder bone, where the wing should have joined, was exposed, sticking up from amongst a mass of torn flesh and ripped tendons. It looked like someone had run barbed wire down her back, pushing in hard. He watched carefully but couldn't see any blood seeping into the water. He hoped it was a good sign.

"How'd you do it, girl? How'd you rip your wing like that?" he asked. "I mean, that's a big bone and a major joint. It would have taken a lot of force to do it." He paused, waiting for an answer. Then he realized what he was doing and he gave himself a shake.

The water was dusky and gross from the washed off blood and dirt, so Jared opened the drain. Jen chirped in disapproval, turning her head to glare at him.

"Hang on," he soothed automatically. "Just let me get some clean stuff. Dirty water in your injuries can't be a good thing."

She made an amused-sounding chuffing noise, and Jared had the feeling that she didn't think it would make a difference. "Why take the chance, when we have lots of water?" he argued, even as the tub refilled. She made a movement with her ruff that was like a shrug. Then she settled in to enjoy the fresh, warm water.

It wasn't until she'd stopped looking at him that he realized that he'd been acting like they were having a real conversation. He had always talked to the animals like they could understand him, (especially when talking to Sadie and Olive) but that was a little over the top. He had to remind himself that they couldn't actually have a conversation.

Inside the sink, Jenny lifted each foot in turn, and swishing them through the water. She twisted her head, maybe to clean between her toes or something, but she froze when it pulled at her wound. Her hiss was filled with pain and Jared was quick to soothe her. The dogs, who were waiting in the doorway, whined anxiously.

"She's okay. She just forgot she was hurt," he said to them before turning back to his newest charge. She clicked at him in irritation.

"Don't worry, Jenny," he assured her. "I'll make sure you're clean, every inch. Can you stretch out your good wing?" He touched it where it was lying along her left side. It twitched then she spread it slowly. The wing was small, barely more than the length of Jared's pointer finger and hardly as wide as his palm. How the hell could she have _flown_ with wings that small?

"I'm going to check it for injuries before I wash it, okay?" He stroked gentle fingertips along the bones, checking for breaks. Unlike the rest of her, the wing didn't have a pattern. It was dark green along the bone but the membrane was a deep black. Even in bright light, Jared didn't think the veins would be visible.

"It seems to be fine," he said. "No breaks, no blood, no tears." He took a quick look at where Jenny's other wing should've been. The best that could be said was that it wasn't pumping out blood like a zombie movie casualty. He could see a flash of white, but since she didn't seem to be in much distress, he decided to wait until she was clean to take a closer look.

He dragged a wet cloth over her sides then continued wiping down her legs and belly. He tried to be gentle, but Jenny chittered at him, as if it was undignified for her to be treated as fragile. "Shh," Jared tried to soothe her, "You're not weak, just hurt. That means you need help for a time."

Actually, with only one wing, she'd need care for the rest of her life and dragons had long, long lives. It wasn't the multiple centuries of legend, but a hundred wasn't unlikely. Which meant it was imperative that he figure out which zoo she'd escaped from.

He lifted the cloth over her back and wrung it out, so that the water dribbled gently over the injury. When he was done, he opened the drain a little. Then he turned on the tap to run a trickle of mostly hot water, both to keep the water clean and to keep it warm. Jenny enjoyed that much more. Jenny kept up a low, continuous rumble like a cat's purr.

Maybe it _was_ a purr, he thought. What the hell did he know about dragons?

"How do I heal something like this?" he asked the somnolent dragon. He tugged his hair away from his forehead, pulling hard as he thought. As tempting as it was to keep Jenny to himself, he didn't think it was going to be possible. This wasn't a hawk's broken wing he could strap up and let heal before releasing the bird back into the wild.

He couldn't release her into the wild at all. There were no more wild dragons, everyone agreed on that. No dragon prides for her to join, that would maybe look after her, and there were no small villages that could safely adopt her, so if he did let her go, she'd probably die because she couldn't hunt. Plus how would she escape the black-marketers who wouldn't care who got hurt as long as they had a live dragon to sell?

He had to get her back to her zoo.

"I'm just going to go look something up," Jared informed the room at large. "I'll be right back." Dogs and dragon all ignored him as he stepped out of the bathroom and crossed the hall to his bedroom. He started up his old laptop, turning on his TV to search through the stations while it booted, but there was nothing.

"Huh." He threw himself back in his chair. It was, like, a forty-minute drive to Kansas City from Lawrence, but he was pretty sure dragons didn't fly as fast as cars drove, so maybe a two-hour flight time? And who knew how long Jenny had been lying in the woods before Harley had found her. That made it maybe three hours that Jenny had been missing from the zoo, and there was nothing on the news.

Yeah, okay, so the zoo officials would be embarrassed. They might even have their license suspended or revoked—the federal government didn't mess around when it came to the care and protection of America's dragons—but after three hours, they should've put out a call. Witnesses, anybody who might have seen her flying by, _something_ …

Weird.

Unless they were afraid she'd been stolen or kidnapped. That would explain her injuries, too. If a black-marketer wanted to keep a dragon under control, what easier way than to damage the wing so it couldn't fly? Or it could've been damaged when Jenny fought against her kidnappers. Or they were planning to send the wing to the zoo to prove they were serious: pay us $100 million dollars or the dragon gets it!

But any kidnapper or black-marketer would have to know that taking a dragon would be like declaring war, or blowing up the Statue of Liberty. Forget the money, national pride would be on the line. The U.S. government would hunt them down with a single-minded ruthlessness that would put a Terminator to shame. He could even see the President quoting from the first movie: "It will not stop— _ever_! Until you are dead."

It didn't make sense.

He decided to drop the news and go for the biology. If he couldn't just phone up the zoo and say, "Hey, I've got your dragon!" then he needed to figure out how to take care of her.

He entered his search terms in Google and waited. The screen filled with folk tales and fan sites. There were a few that looked legitimate: sites hosted by the zoos and universities where they studied dragon care. Jared started on those, leaning forward in anticipation.

They were useless.

"Dragons should be cared for by professionals." "Our programs offer the best training." "We take the best care of the dragons entrusted to us." Blah, blah, blah. Lots of chest-puffing generalities but nothing on what to feed a dragon, or how to tell their temperature. What the hell _was_ a dragon's normal temperature?

There were bulletin boards and forums but they were all members-locked. Meaning, he had to already be in the club before he could learn the membership requirements.

He went back to the fan sites.

They all seemed to consist of listings of dragon gifts mentioned in folk tales and legends. Back when dragons had been powerful and honored and free; before Christianity had tried to demonize the creatures by declaring them false idols; before politics and war and nationalistic furor had changed dragons from local mascots into symbols of a country's strength and power. Before humans had corralled them, tagged them, and locked them up into zoos.

Romantic drivel, in other words.

Jared closed the window on the seventh site that told him that "in the past" all an injured dragon had needed was "a freely offered cow, or a couple goats." The dragon would "accept the sacrifice" (meaning they'd eat the animals,) then they'd fall into what sounded like a food coma, and in the morning, they'd be all better.

Well, he didn't have a cow to offer Jenny even if she'd been big enough to eat one, but he could give her some food. Something soft, easy to digest but rich in nutrients. Sweet potatoes or bananas, he decided.

He looked quickly into the bathroom to check everything was still okay before he ran downstairs to grab the stuff out of the kitchen.

"Jared?" Her voice called from the dining room, loud enough to be heard over Rigoletto's famous aria.

He paused. "Yes, Mama?"

"I think one of the toilets upstairs is running," she said. "Can you check and fix it? Water isn't free, after all."

He swallowed. "Okay, Mama."

No more hot water for Jenny.

Whatever, Jared decided. The little dragon was clean and should be plenty rehydrated. Hopefully, the legends were right and now all she needed was some food.

When he got back upstairs, the first thing he saw was Harley laying belly-down in front of his pile of blankets. In the center of the pile, holding the place of honor was Jenny, but she didn't seem happy about it. She was hissing and clicking at the dog who was cowering in front of her. From the way she was twitching her feet, she was trying to get her claws unstuck from the loose-knit covering.

Jared wanted his camera so bad. Here was this skinny, tiny, lizard-like thing scolding the hell out of his huge mastiff. Even Sadie was watching and doing the doggie equivalent of laughing.

"Hey, hey, hey," he said, moving in as Jenny nearly tipped over from shaking her foot so hard. She only had the one wing for stabilization and it was easy to see that she wasn't used to it yet.

He put the food and knife up on the table while he carefully untangled the dragon's sharp little claws from the loosely crocheted blanket that was Harley's favorite thing in the world. She hadn't liked being caught. As soon as she was free, she raced up Jared's arm all the way to his shoulder, where she dug her claws in and chittered and clicked in disapproval.

"Aw, c'mon, Jenny. Forgive the guy," Jared crooned. "Can't you see he's sorry?"

Jenny stopped and looked (and Jared would freak out about it later). Harley, knowing they were talking about him, gave them his largest, saddest, eyes. They didn't work on Jared very often anymore, but they worked on Jenny. She chirped and trilled and, more importantly for Jared, relaxed her death grip on his shoulder. He stood up carefully, keeping a hand ready in case she started to slip.

"How'd you get out of the sink, girl?" he muttered. "How'd you get out of the sink and over into the middle of Harley's blankets?"

Maybe next time he'd set up a video camera.

He gave himself a shake; there wasn't going to be a next time.

"Food. Everything I've read says the next step is food."

He walked back to the work-table and peeled part of the banana. "I checked on some reptile and amphibian websites and they didn't say anything about not feeding them bananas." Jenny clicked in indignation.

"I do realize you're not either of those things, but it was the best I could do." He sliced off a piece and held it up to her. "Besides, you might like it. Bananas are the most popular fruit in America." He wiggled it. "300 million people can't be wrong…"

Jared was sure Jenny was sniffing it. Then she extended her foot and placed it on his fingers, wrapping her claws around them and pulling them and the fruit closer. Her tongue poked out for a quick lick. Her lips smacked a couple times, then, with a snap, she grabbed the whole thing. She barely even scraped him with her teeth.

"You like that?" He asked as he cut another small slice and presented it. That one disappeared much faster. She barely waited for him to cut the next one, hopping onto the table he was cutting on so all he had to do was push the piece toward her. When she got too close to the knife, he paused. "Nah-ah-uh," he said and nudged Jen back to a safe distance.

It didn't take long for the dragon to devour the whole fruit. Once it was done, she chirped unhappily and looked ready to take on the peel.

"Not the peel," he told her. "It's too hard to digest. Even composting worms have a hard time with them."

Swear to God, she harrumphed in displeasure, sitting back on her haunches and pouting.

He cut a thin slice from the sweet potato and presented it.

Jen sniffed it, licked it then clawed it into her mouth. She crunched on it, shifted it around her mouth, but it didn't seem to be getting any smaller. Jared looked closer and realized that dragons didn't have molars. Without molars, Jen couldn't chew the hard flesh. She was trying though.

"C'mon, girl, spit it out," Jared encouraged. He thought of trying to pull the potato out, but then he took another look at her teeth—lots of long, sharp, teeth—and decided to wait.

Just when Jared was starting to worry that he was going to have to use the Heimlich on an injured dragon, Jen spat out the slice. She stared at it a moment. Then up at Jared. Then she carefully used her claws to shred the vegetable.

"Holy shit," Jared said with a laugh. "That's brilliant. Not just looks but brains too." He gave her brow ridge a quick stroke. She ignored him in favor of chowing down on the decimated potato. He cut off another piece, making sure to cut it thin, but large enough so he could watch her do it again.

She ate nearly a third of the tuber before finally turning her nose up.

"Wow," Jared said in admiration. She'd probably eaten her body weight in less than fifteen minutes.

She waddled over the work-table—stomach noticeably distended—poking her head behind stuff and in stuff. She chittered and clicked, obviously discontented. Harley tried to put his blanket on the table, and Jared realized Jen was looking for a blanket, or a nest—someplace warm and soft for her to sleep out her incipient food coma.

He went to the hall linen closet and got her a clean towel, thick and poufy. He laid it in a pile in the sunlight. He reached out for Jenny then stopped, hands hovering inches from picking her up.

Then she butted his hand with her head and he knew it was okay to pick her up.

It wasn't until later that he wondered why he'd felt he needed her permission.

* * *

  
While Jen was unconscious, he went back to his laptop. There was still nothing on the news: no dragon had escaped or been stolen in Kansas, the U.S., or anywhere else in the world. Okay, so they wouldn't want to advertise their carelessness, but somebody had _lost_ _their_ _dragon_ and they would be looking for her. If it wasn't a government, then that meant it was a black-market breeder or some kind of cartel. It would explainwhy there was nothing on the news.

People like that usually had people with guns working for them, he thought. _Mean_ people, with guns and no conscience.

All of a sudden, he was drenched with nervous sweat.

It finally occurred to him that just by having Jen in the house, he'd put his whole family at risk.


	2. Lost and Borrowed

  
  
HE REST OF THE DAY PASSED. He fed Jen when she woke up and frowned when he realized she'd grown a couple inches in her sleep.

Sadie shifted the dragon's towel onto her pillow and kept Harley away from her when she was sleeping. Olive came up to torment Harley and stayed to stare at the new addition. When Jen woke up, she clicked at the caique, or at the dogs, or maybe she was nagging the turtles, Jared barely noticed except to cut more food and worry that Harley really had been taken over by a pod puppy.

Mostly, he kept an eye on the news, using the TV in his room. If the Governor _did_ announce anything, it would be through the regular news channels, not the blogosphere. But afternoon shifted into evening, then slid into night without any such announcement. The lack of news allowed Jared's worst-case scenarios grow from the frightening image of being locked up in a prison with no name, to the terrifying one of being the subject of crime scene photos to rival the Valentine's Day Massacre.

He was pretty sure they wouldn't. There was no _reason_ , after all.

He needed to get Jen into the system without getting his family totally screwed, but how?

He cleaned the cages, fed everyone, took the dogs out to the yard to do their business while the dragon still slept, and he worried. He could show up at the zoo gate: "Hi, I found this dragon…?" Big men with guns would haul him away to a concrete bunker, shine bright lights on him and play horrible music until he surrendered. He could call… Then the big men with guns would show up at his house and take them all away.

Then he realized the answer. It was so simple he could've kicked himself. .

Jim Beaver, over at the shelter, had been some kind of big shot at one of the zoos before taking early retirement. He worked at the shelter because he didn't know how not to be busy. He'd be the perfect guy to ask. He probably knew someone who knew someone who could take care of it.

Jared ached to run back inside and make the call _right now_ , but he had to wait for the dogs to finish doing their business. Maybe they realized he was in a hurry, maybe they just wanted to get back to Jen, either way they didn't linger outside, looking for rabbits in the bushes. He remembered to wipe the dirt off their paws (and to give the kitchen floor a cursory swipe) before he raced upstairs and into his room where he had his own phone.

He entered the number for the shelter and waited for someone to pick up.

_"Lawrence Animal Rescue Society, Katie speaking. How can I help you?"_

"Katie? It's Jared."

 _"Hey, Jared."_ Katie's voice turned to silk. _"It's been a long time since we talked."_

He squirmed in his seat. "Oh, uh, you know spring break just started."

 _"Hmm, is that why I haven't seen nearly enough of you,"_ she purred.

Jared had a sudden image of himself, standing in front of her desk, and slowly taking his shirt off while she sat there and watched. She'd have that little smile that said she was thinking naughty thoughts.

Oh, he liked that smile…

_"Jared, are you still with me?"_

"Yeah, um…" His brain was mostly offline.

He heard her laugh, low and inviting, and his little brain perked up in response. He knew she knew what that laugh did to most guys. And he knew that she enjoyed reducing guys to their lowest functions using nothing more than a low-cut sweater and a husky voice. The eyelashes didn't hurt either, Jared admitted. Katie had the longest eyelashes of anyone he'd ever met.

She took pity on his blood pressure because her voice was more professional when she spoke again. " _What can I do for you, Jared? You're not scheduled to come in until Thursday._ "

"Is Jim in today?" he managed to ask.

" _No, not anymore. It_ is _after eight,_ " she answered, and Jared would've blamed Katie for the brain fart but he actually hadn't checked. Jim's day started with the sun so he was usually gone by dinnertime.

_"Jared? He'll be in tomorrow. Will that be good enough or do you want me to transfer you to his cell?"_

"Will he be busy tomorrow?" Jim got booked for a lot of the large or exotic animal work.

_"The usual. You know how it is."_

Jared could hear the shrug in her voice but he did know. All over Kansas, people were complaining about the drought. Not enough snow in winter and in summer there was too much water falling too fast to do any good, so the farmers and ranchers were suffering. Unfortunately, when they cut back it often involved reducing what they gave their animals, whether it was water, food or care, which meant places like the Lawrence shelter were overrun with large animals.

Not that Katie really cared. She worked at the shelter because it looked good on her résumé, it paid decent, and she and her creepy fiancé got to meet important people at all the fundraisers.

 _"If it's important, I could transfer you to his cell?"_ she offered again.

Over the phone... He could still ask his questions, but he'd be able to hide the truth of what he'd found—make it an 'I heard it from a friend of a friend of mine' kind of thing. It would be safer for him, his family, and for Jim and the shelter, too.

But it wouldn't be as good as letting Jim look at Jen.

"No, that's okay," Jared decided. "I'll see him tomorrow."

_"Come in early; grab him before the rush."_

"Okay, Katie. Thanks."

" _Well, if you ever want to thank me properly…_ " she purred, low and inviting, and _all_ Jared's blood ran south. By the time it redistributed, she'd hung up.

"Whew!" His breath whooshed out as he collapsed onto his bed. He took another moment to bring his body under control and once again wished that A) he was about ten years older, and B) that Katie was available for the older, suaver version of himself to hit on. In reality, her fiancé was rich and powerful and (maybe) a little good-looking. He was also a manipulative power-hungry dick who believed his power and money would make Katie forgive anything he did.

Unfortunately, he'd been right so far.

There was noise from the pets' room. Harley was barking and Olive was squawking. Sadie hadn't joined in so he knew it wasn't serious yet, but it was probably working up to it. Olive loved to tease Harley, and Harley, despite being part mastiff, couldn't quite reach the bird when it flew up to the netting Jared had anchored across one part of the ceiling. Olive would perch up there, taunting the poor puppy, while Harley jumped, barked, and generally tried to bring down the roof. Literally.

Jared didn't need to wait for his mother's shout. He rushed across the hall to break it up the showdown. Except, when he walked into the room, the dog and the bird weren't bickering. They actually seemed to be scolding the dragon.

The dragon that was climbing out of the gerbil's cage. The continually hungry, omnivorous, dragon that was climbing out of the prey animal's cage.

Jared froze. "Oh my god. Precious!"

His sister was going to be heart-broken and then she'd be completely _pissed_!

Before he had time to totally freak out, there was a rustling in the paper-sawdust mix and Precious poked his little whiskered face out.

Jared's limbs went rubbery with relief. "Oh, thank god! Megan would've killed me if you'd eaten him."

He walked over to close the cage door. "How did you get the door open?" he asked, fingering the latch. " _Why_ did you open it? It wasn't to get in and eat Precious, obviously. And how'd you get up on the table?" It was a high table, comfortable enough for any Padalecki male to stand at. "Did Harley lift you up? Did you climb on him?"

Jen ignored his questions and walked over to the knife Jared had used earlier to cut up her food. She put a foot on the blade and pushed it down, making the knife rock. She looked at Jared and repeated the motion, chirruping softly.

"You hungry?" Jared said. "Looks like you might be hungry." But not hungry enough to eat Precious, thank god.

Between Jenny and Olive, they finished the sweet potato, two bananas, an apple, and half a sausage. He was just thinking he'd have to go get more when Jen backed away, blinking sleepily. She went over to the corner and calmly climbed down the leg, slinking around it like a cartoon character.

"Whoa, that's cool." Jared said, awed.

She walked confidently over to her towel beside Sadie, and settled herself into its fluffy folds. Harley, who'd paced her carefully, managed to get in a couple licks before he settled down to watch her sleep.

Jared blinked a couple more times. "Okay, creepy stalker-dog alert."

Jen made a soft coughing sound—it reminded Jared of soft laughter—as she settled in for the night. She flared her bony ruff twice, her wing once, and then closed her eyes. Sadie stared at him for a moment, as if reassuring him that Jenny would be safe with her, before she lowered her head and closed her eyes.

Jared whistled Olive to him and tucked her in her cage for the night. One last check on the rest of the animals, and it was time for lights out. He yelled down to inform his parents that he was going to be in his room and got an acknowledgment back he could barely hear. Jeff was at college. Megan was at a friend's. Three people in a six-person house, and it was too big and too empty.

He decided to bury his longing for his old friends by seeing who from home was on AIM tonight. Maybe they could chat and he could pretend they were just up the street instead of 800 miles away.

* * *

  
It was the middle of the night and Jared dreamed that a huge cat climbed into bed with him and started rumbling like an old Chevy. The house crashed down around him but the cat was huge, and its fur was fluffy, and somehow, Jared bounced off him and flew through the night sky. Soaring over the foothills and roaring his pleasure because _this_ was the way it was supposed to be.

Except, it wasn't _his_ roar. His roar was small still, and young. This roar was huge—the roar of an adult in her prime.

It was his mama, of course. She was just above him, sheltering him and showing him how to fly in the mountains, catching the updrafts, making use of the down. When he got tired, she ducked underneath him and let him settle on her back. He dug his claws in, knowing they wouldn't penetrate her scales, pulled his wings tight to his body, and she began to play…

Rolls and loops, dives and swoops, speed and freedom and glory. It was exhilarating!

He roared out his happiness.

Then she disappeared.

And he was alone.

Jared surfaced from the dream just long enough to mutter "Shhh, s'okay, l'il fella, s'okay," before he rolled over and went back into unconsciousness.

* * *

  
Jared hadn't had to set an alarm since they got Sadie. It wasn't even that she barked or whined, but that Jared was aware he was responsible for her. The others could go in their cages, but Sadie—and now Harley—were too big for a litter box. He flipped back the covers and rolled out of bed. The furnace clicked as it fired up, but aside from thinking it was odd for his parents to leave the furnace on at night, he ignored it. Instead, he stretched out all his joints then padded into his bathroom, all without opening his eyes.

He'd already looked out the window, and the morning sky was clear—perfect for a run. He got dressed in long pants and long sleeves, since Lawrence was a lot colder than San Antonio, even in March.

By the time he opened his door, the dogs were in the hall, bouncing on their paws. "Hey guys," he said as he gave them pats and scratches. "Ready for our run?"

Harley remembered not to bark, but his tail hit the wall like a metronome on steroids. He opened the door before the wall was damaged and let them out. Then he went back into the kitchen to start the coffee brewing (his parents insisted on using a perc, not an automatic drip). He grabbed the large fanny pack that was preloaded with leashes, bags, and dog treats, add a bottle of water, and he was good to go.

This wasn't like yesterday's walk; he wasn't going into the woods, and he wasn't going to meander. This was him pounding the pavement for a half-hour, stretching his muscles to feel them move. This was being healthy and young and fit, and enjoying it. He'd done it before he had dogs and it had seemed stupid not to bring Sadie along when he'd first got her. Sadie didn't go on the road and she responded well to voice commands, so Jared had never used a leash. Harley was more difficult. He wasn't Sadie; he wore a leash. No way was Jared losing him to a careless driver.

He ran a loop around the Sandersons' ranch as he always did, enjoying the glimpses of the alpacas they raised. He'd learned not to go too close to the woolly beasts. They spit when they got nervous —sticky, globby, stinky spit that was hell to get out of dog fur.

When they got home, he walked up the driveway to let them all cool down. He went around back as he always did, so that the dogs could spend some time in the back yard. They enjoyed it and his mama appreciated not having them pant and drool all over her floors. He walked in and Mama handed him a cup of coffee, made with chocolate milk just the way he liked it. She also had his scrambled eggs ready.

"Thanks, Mama," he said as he gave her a good morning kiss. He sat at the table to eat his late morning snack while his mama prepared the food for the four-legged members of their family, and the bird, who was upstairs making noise.

"Is that The Mamas and the Papas?" he asked, listening to the caique's whistle.

Mama smiled. " _Sing for Your Supper_. I thought it appropriate."

His mother had a strange sense of humor.

"So what are your plans for today, Jared?" she asked as she sat across from him, her own coffee clutched lovingly in her hands.

"Can I borrow the car?" Jared asked in response. "I want to go to the shelter and check something out."

"No more strays, Jared. We have enough animals in the house."

He lifted his hand to God. "No more strays from the shelter, Mama. Promise."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You can use the car if you do my shopping."

He paused with a forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth. "Shopping for what?" he asked suspiciously; she'd once put tampons on the list.

Her mouth lifted in an evil, little smirk. "Groceries only, I promise," she said, but Jared still made her show him the list. He negotiated out the bra (cup size included), but agreed to the deodorant and lady's razor blades. After the list was agreed to, his mama settled in to read the newspaper while Jared finished his eggs. He refilled his coffee (black, no sugar this time) and took the bowl of fresh food upstairs. He needed to shower and change, feed the animals, and smuggle Jen out of the house.

He was running late, so he rushed into the pet room to drop off the bowl of food, let Olive out of her cage so she could fly downstairs and beg food off Mama. Then he ran across the hall into his own room. He took a sip before setting his coffee cup on the dresser. Then he pulled off his sweaty shirt and tossed it on the bed, his mind focused on the tasks ahead.

When his bed chittered at him in loud protest, jumping, shouting (not screeching) and nearly hitting his head on the ceiling was completely understandable and not unmanly at all.

He lifted the edge of the damp cloth. "Jenny?"

The dragon clicked and burped unhappily. She tried to get out from under the shirt, but the fabric caught in the ridges in her ruff and along her spine, so she dragged the shirt with her. It was cute how frustrated she got.

"How'd you get up here, girl?" Jared asked as he removed his shirt. If she could've answered, he wouldn't have heard it anyway. Along her back, where just yesterday there'd been torn flesh and exposed bone, there was now a very small, very pale, very new wing.

"Holy shit," Jared whispered, shocked. He reached out to touch then stopped, looking at the dragon for permission. She seemed to understand because she stretched out her wings—her _wings_ , plural—for him to inspect.

It was barely half the size of the one on the left, but it was real and whole and _there_.

"Holy shit," he repeated, but this time it was reverent, awe-filled. "I guess you didn't need a cow, just lots of food. Wow."

This meant he didn't need to go see Jim after all. Or he didn't need to take Jen, who was obviously _not_ in need of a vet.

Except that someone out there was still missing a dragon, and they _would_ be looking for her. Jim would know who to talk to. And if Jen _was_ black market, Jim would know how to get the word out that she was now safe in a zoo. Except Jared wasn't really a fan of zoos, either. Still, better alive in a cage than killed for body parts or something equally horrific.

"So you wanna go for a car ride after breakfast?" he asked her. She chirruped, and it sounded like agreement.

Jared scrubbed his hands over his face and scalp. He really needed to lay off the Disney movies. Animals responded to tone, they didn't actually mean anything by it.

Jenny chuffed, and flared her wings—both of them—and turned her head back and forth to look at them. She flared the smaller right one, made a keening sound, and then turned to look at him.

"Yeah, okay. More food. I need a shower, then I'll feed you," he replied. She chirped and went back to flapping her wings.

She looked a little bigger, he thought. He'd nearly missed it, what with her having two wings again, but now she'd probably be longer than his forearm—way longer.

He didn't have time to stand here repeating 'holy shit' in his head. It was nearly seven already. If he wanted to catch Jim before the shelter opened he needed to haul ass. He scrubbed himself down, and brushed his teeth, but decided he could go another day before shaving—dammit! A quick rub with the towel, and he was ready to get dressed. He went back into his bedroom and found Jenny curled over his coffee cup, nose submerged in the caffeinated liquid.

"Jenny! Bad!" he said. "Coffee's not good for you."

He moved to separate dragon from cup, but Jen looked up at him and hissed. It wasn't one of her vaguely pissed hisses either: it was a ruff-out, wings-spread performance, very clearly warning him away from what belonged to her.

Dragons used to kill people. People who threatened what they considered theirs.

It was part of the legends, exaggerated folk tales and stories about "how it used to be," but nobody believed it. Dragons were just so small compared to most humans.

They didn't believe dragons could heal from eating either.

Jared withdrew his hands.

One final triumphant snap and Jen dropped her head back into the cup.

He hoped caffeine wasn't, like, toxic to dragons.

He dressed quickly, and took care of the other animals just as quick. He fed them, put out fresh water, and cleaned the cages that needed it. Then he dragged their old cat carrier out from under the table. They'd bought it to take their various pets to their (frequent) visits to the vet, and it was perfect way to smuggle a bright green dragon out of the house. He just had to get the dragon into the carrier.

He went back into his room. Jenny was still there, still wrapped around his coffee mug, but now she was making that bullfrog croon that he was convinced meant she was happy.

He'd addicted a dragon to coffee. That couldn't be good.

He held out some of the sausage he'd brought with him. He waved it around to infuse the air with its smell. Then he did his own crooning. "C'mon, Jen. Move away from the cup. You know you _really_ want this sausage. It tastes better than coffee, honest. It's sausage. SAaaaawww-saaaaage."

Jen lifted her snout from the mug and tracked the piece of food. She watched him bring it closer, until she could finally grab his fingers (with her pointy little claws) and take the food for herself.

Jared had cut the sausage pretty small this time since he didn't want to waste time making her shred it, but he didn't want her gagging on it either. He needn't have worried—Jen's teeth cut through it like it was a ripe banana. It was like watching that Australian guy feed the crocodiles, except Jared could actually see the beauty in Jenny the way he'd never seen it in those 2,000 pound, prehistoric predators.

It took a frighteningly short amount of time for Jen to eat the rest of the sausage, _and_ a banana, plus half an apple. Soon, she should fall asleep and Jared wanted her in the carrier before then. He put the carrier on his bed, door wide open, and went over to the little dragon. He made soothing noises, explaining the plan to her as he moved. She let him put his hand around her. She let him carry her over to the bed. She made that bullfrog purr, and it made Jared's fingers tingle.

Then Jared tried to put her in the carrier.

The purr changed to a low snarl. The ruff on her neck flared and her wings went straight out.

"It's okay, Jenny," he tried to reassure her. "It's clean and dry. It'll be safer for you to travel in."

Her feet were splayed, ready to catch the edge of the carrier door. She brought her long tail into play, using it like a whip. She hissed her displeasure and fought and struggled. She clamped on the plastic of the opening, and braced her feet. She stabbed at him with her tail, and gave a small roar.

The dogs burst into the room, barking and growling, and generally behaving like _Jared_ was the bad guy. Sadie gave a soft, sad woof, and looked like she was about to howl in disappointment, and if that happened, Harley would join in. After that, it would take his mother only three, maybe five, minutes to come up to investigate.

"Okay, fine." Jared conceded. "But if we crash and Jen gets hurt then it's on your heads."

He ended up smuggling her out in the towel she'd slept on last night. Thank god his mama had gone into the work-out room and wasn't around to see the bright pink bundle squiggle and squeak. He packed up some supplies (food) and opened the door.

He didn't mean to bring the dogs, but they were right there, under his feet. He tried to push them back, away from the door. "Stay," he said.

Harley howled, Sadie whimpered, and Jared couldn't leave them. "Fine, you can be my lookouts." They bounded over to the Civic. He placed Jenny carefully on the front seat. Then he strapped the dogs into the back, and everybody was happy but him .

He spent the drive wondering if he was doing the right thing. He couldn't keep Jen, of course, but he couldn't help comparing her behavior to what he'd seen of dragons in captivity. One, captive dragons were all dark and blah colored. Two, they weren't noisy; at least he'd never read anything to indicate they "spoke" the way Jen did. Three, well. It was captivity, and that had to suck.

But he couldn't protect her, and he wouldn't be able to protect his family once someone found out. Rock and a hard place, and his family had to come first. Jenny looked up at him and chirped, but Jared didn't think everything _would_ be alright.

"You're supposed to be sleeping, Jen," he said. "So you can get that wing back up to size."

Jen clicked and pulled herself out of the towel.

In the back, Harley and Sadie leaned out their windows as far as their seat belts allowed. In the front, Jenny decided to check out the view, too. At first, she put her head up to the side window, but it was rolled up and Jared wasn't going to lower it since she was unsecured. She tapped at the clear glass then tried to pull herself up to look out. They hit a bump and she tumbled backwards onto the seat. She righted herself with annoyed little chirrups. She pumped her wings and lifted herself to balance on her hind legs and tail.

"Oh wow," Jared whispered, sneaking peeks when he should be watching the road.

Jared saw the moment she noticed the front window. She chirped in question, neck stretched full out. Then she dropped to all fours, walked to the edge of the seat and reached out her arm. The dash was well out of reach. She stretched out more, tail pointed stiffly straight back in counterbalance.

"Hey, now. Don't do that," Jared said. "I hit another bump or have to stop and you'll go flying."

She looked at him, looked back at the windshield, and jumped.

"Holy mother fuck–"

The car skittered across the road for a moment as Jared's adrenaline level spiked.

"If you put holes in my mama's dash, she's going to be seriously pissed at me. Which means I'm gonna be pissed at _you_." He knew it was silly to be scolding a dragon, but—Jesus, god—he had to be allowed to react.

Jen, of course, ignored him. She stretched herself out along the glass, making her "how interesting" noise and then her "I'm happy now" noise until they faded into her "I'm sleeping" noise.

Hopefully, anyone who saw her would think she was just a very realistic toy.

* * *

  
The shelter was located in a huge warehouse on the outskirts of Lawrence, and it was too small. There were five horses in the paddock, a couple bison, and four emus—all rescued from farmers who didn't have a clue or didn't care that the animals were suffering.

Most of the space was in use for the cats and dogs and rabbits that made up the majority of the shelter's inhabitants. Unwanted, feral, run- or throwaways, they had three vets who rotated through during the week and did nothing but sterilizations. Wannabe-vets and veterinary assistants were sent from the local post-secondary schools to spend at least one portion of their training at the shelter.

The parking lot was busy with staff arriving and suppliers dropping off stuff, but there was nobody hanging around the front doors waiting for the shelter to open; nobody around to see Jared pull a dragon out of his car. Still, he parked the car in the corner farthest away from the bay doors.

Jen woke up as soon as they stopped, and Jared would swear that she understood where they were. She hopped down onto her towel and let Jared wrap her up, meek as all get-out. Jared gave her a disbelieving look. "You are not meek," he said. "You're bossy and demanding, just like my old girlfriend."

The dragon burped at him in disapproval.

He went around to the passenger side and snapped the leashes on the dogs before undoing their seat belts and letting them jump out of the car. Only then did Jared lift a towel-wrapped Jen out. He hip-checked the door closed, and looked at the entrance.

There were a lot of workers in there. A lot of people who would see Jenny if the towel slipped, or the dogs pulled him off balance. A lot of people who would talk about seeing a dragon at the local shelter, carried by "that tall, skinny boy from Texas."

Shit, this was such a bad idea.

Beside him Sadie woofed softly. She and Harley were sitting quietly, patiently.

Too quietly.

Harley loved coming to the shelter. He should've been acting like a puppy in a playground.

Jared looked at the mastiff. Harley looked at him and whined in return. There was a hiss from inside the towel.

"Jesus," Jared realized. "Jen told you to behave yourselves."

Neither Sadie nor Harley told him any different. Jen chirped and shifted inside her cover.

"Right. Time to get moving." A deep breath and a fervent hope that the dragon's control of Harley was as good as it seemed to be. It only took a few seconds to reach the staff door. A couple seconds more and he was inside, and it was too late to run away.

The door opened into a short hallway with lockers on one side and the staff room on the other. It smelled faintly of disinfectant overlaid with old coffee. He stuck his head into the staff room.

"Hello, Jared."

"Hi there!"

"Ooo, it's Sadie and Harley!" The last voice was Emily's, so Jared wasn't surprised to be completely ignored. To Emily, humans were only tolerated if they looked after animals in some way. She'd been arrested for throwing paint on people wearing fur coats and for parading in naked protest against eating beef. Or maybe it had been using mice in drug trials, Jared couldn't remember.

Emily ran over to coo and fuss over the dogs, and Jared braced himself for Harley's answering enthusiasm (Sadie never bounced at _anyone_ —except his daddy), but it wasn't needed. Today, Harley looked at Jared (or at Jen more likely) and waited for instructions.

"Hey, Emily. Have you seen Jim?" The question served to derail Emily's blind charge to get her hands on his dogs.

"Jim?"

"You know. Older guy, trimmed beard, greyish hair. Wears a ball cap and works with the emus."

"Ooh, Jim! Of course I know Jim."

"Is he in yet?"

"Yeah. I saw him go into the barn."

It was birthing season in the barn. Normally, birthing was a time for rejoicing, but too often the baby of a rescued animal would be sickly or even stillborn. Jared tended to stay away from the barn during birthing season.

"Cool," he said. "I'll go look for him there."

He whistled for the dogs and they rose to walk beside him as if they'd been doing it for a lifetime. He met a couple more people in the halls, said "Howdy," and kept on walking. He'd nearly made it through the doors to the barn when Katie called.

"Jared, so you did come," she purred, teasingly. "I wondered if you would."

Yeah, she so didn't mean it the way Jared wanted her to. Well, she _did_ , but it was nothing personal. It still meant he had to shift a little to make his pants comfortable again. Then there was his roiling stomach…

He turned, swallowed. "Hi, Katie. Hi, Mark."

Katie's fiancé, Mark Pellegrino, had his arm slung possessively over her shoulders. He was a man built in a pale palette: pale blue eyes, pale brown hair, pale skin—even his suit was a washed-out charcoal color. It didn't stop him from being one of the scariest people Jared had ever met. When Mark held out his hand to shake, Jared lifted his towel-wrapped burden and tried to pretend to be regretful.

"Is that what you're here to see Jim about?" Katie asked. She bent over for a closer look. Jen hissed softly.

Jared edged closer to the doors. "Yeah. Harley found it in the woods behind our place."

"What is it?" Mark asked.

Jared managed to chuckle. "One of the things I'm going to ask Jim."

Katie took a step closer. It looked like she was going to pull back the towel and Jared didn't know how to stop her—couldn't stop her with his hands full.

Harley stepped into the breach. Literally.

He walked between them, pushing up against Katie's legs and slobbering for attention. It had the same effect it always did. Katie jumped back. "Harley! Fucking gross, man."

Mark Pellegrino looked down his nose at them all. "Katie, language. Although he _is_ rather wild."

"He's, like, four months old." Jared defended his dog. "Kids always think the world revolves around them. At least that's what my mama says."

"Your mom… I'm sure she knows best." Mark didn't actually sneer. He didn't have to when it was so obvious that he wanted to.

"I'm gonna go find Jim. In the barn." Before I try to punch you, he added silently. He hoped he was as good at saying stuff without words as Katie's asshole fiancé.

Harley gave one last slobbery whine in Katie's direction before trotting behind him. Jared waited until they were through the barn doors before saying anything. "Harley, you faker! I can't believe you _lied_. You have never wanted pets or kisses from Katie."

"No, that's your department. Right, Padalecki?

"Eat me, Lindberg," Jared responded without heat. "Have you seen Jim?"

"Yeah, he's two bays over. We're offloading a couple of the mares and he's supervising."

"Okay, thanks," he said.

Chad hadn't looked up from where he was shoveling out the old straw and Jared had barely stopped, but he still considered the little guy a bit of a friend. Unlike some of the other college students here on placement, Chad saw what needed to be done and did it.

The air was thick with the smell of animals. Manure, food, urine, and sweat combined in a small space. Overhead fans weren't enough even with the big doors open to the outside. Jared was always amazed at how quickly his senses learned to filter the smell and ignore it. Harley wanted to investigate every single scent on every single corner or bump. Sadie would, but she hated getting her paws wet. She tried to hop-step over every wet patch no matter what liquid was involved. Between them, Jared was being pulled first one way then another.

"Guys," he protested uselessly.

Inside the towel, Jenny clicked and burped and Sadie and Harley took their places around him, docile and obedient.

"Jesus, Jen," Jared said in awe. "We could make a fortune with you as a dog trainer."

Jenny chirped. Then she sneezed as they passed through a patch where the ammonia was overwhelming. The towel fell away from her head, revealing her ruff.

"Shit," Jared whispered. His hands were full; he couldn't pull the towel back up, but really what were the chances that someone here would take one look at Jenny's head and think she was anything but a fancy lizard?

He picked up his pace anyway.

When he entered the bay Chad had directed him to, he heard Jim's voice. "…mix that into their feed once a day and the last of it should clear up."

Jared waited until Jim had shaken hands with the other guy and closed the door behind him, before he approached. He called out, "Hey, Jim. Were those were the last of the mares?"

"Yeah. Guy's starting a modest breeding program—trotters—and Goodbye Angel is descended from Adios. From a ways back, mind you, but it's still there."

"Really? That's cool." Jared tried to sound impressed.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?" Jim's voice was rough from years of shouting across fields and over loud animals, but it wasn't unkind.

Jared smiled. "Nope. Not a clue," he said.

Jim clapped him on the shoulder with enough force to knock him sideways a step. "Don't worry, boy. We'll educate you yet. Now, Katie told me you wanted to see me before the doors opened."

"Um, yeah." Jared glanced down to where Jenny was partially exposed. "We should maybe go into one of the exam rooms."

"You gotta sick animal there?" Jim asked, but he was already moving. The older man was a head shorter than Jared but he moved fast, easily dodging people and objects. He asked Jared questions as they walk-jogged to the service area: when had he found it; where had he found it; had it eaten; gone to the bathroom; all kinds of questions that Jared put off until they had some privacy.

"You'd think you'd found a secret microchip instead of a hurt lizard," Jim snapped as he shut the door.

"Well, you wouldn't be far wrong," Jared said with a nervous giggle. "Um, so, okay. Meet Jenny."

He set her on the table and took off the towel. She croaked like a bullfrog, fanning out her ruff and wings.

"Sweet mother of god," Jim said. "You found a dragon?'

"Yeah," Jared agreed running nervous hands through his hair. "The thing is, I have no idea which zoo she came from, if she came from one, or how to get her back there without starting some kind of frenzy. I mean ... a lost dragon?" He stroked his finger down her spine. "Everybody's gonna want a piece of that."

"True," Jim agreed absently. He leaned over to get a better look at her wings. She stared back, chirruping at the old zookeeper. "So what do you want from me?"

"I was hoping you could tell me which zoo she came from or help me find out at least."

"Huh," Jim grunted. "Might be able to. Gotta tell ya, kid. Dragons weren't my area."

"You still have to know more than I do. Can't you just look at the colors and the pattern and tell what family line she's from?" Jared pleaded. "I mean, sires give the colors, dams give the patterns, right?"

Jim snorted. "Hardly. What I can tell you from the colors is your dragon ain't a girl."

"She's not?"

"No," Jim emphasized. " _He's_ not. Like most animals, male dragons have the colors so they can impress the ladies. And I gotta tell ya, this dragon's about the prettiest I've ever seen." The dragon in question hissed in displeasure, but Jim ignored it. "I mean, I heard of colors being this vivid, but I ain't ever seen it. Maybe he's a cross with an Asian breed."

"She— _He_ orders my dogs around," Jared said. "And maybe my sister's gerbil."

Jim looked up at him. "Yeah?" Jared nodded. Jim hummed. "I know that's been documented, but it's rare. And it's usually only one other animal, like a mascot." He looked up again. "Do you think he'd let me pick him up?"

Jared blinked. It was up to him? Why was it up to him?

"Um, sure?" He took his finger off, suddenly aware that he'd been petting Jenny (no, not Jenny), petting Johnny? (Blech), petting Jen. He'd been petting Jen without noticing.

Jim put his hand over Jennn…'s back, carefully confining the wings so they wouldn't get damaged, and turned him over to see the even brighter pattern on her— _his_ —belly.

Jenn… (Jenning? Waylon or Willie.) clicked unhappily, and Harley wuffed in response.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, dog," Jim said. "I'm just looking. I'm not gonna hurt your boy." Jim frowned at the revealed pattern. He ran a thick finger over the Rorschach-like design. "Huh," he said unhelpfully.

Jared waited a moment.

"What 'huh'?" he asked.

Jim started, like he'd forgotten Jared was there. He turned Jen (Jeneva, Jenova? Crap, girl's names) right side up and let him go. The dragon fluffed out his ridge and wings, making his unhappy burp sound.

"I don't recognize the pattern," Jim finally said. "But that's not surprising; the only prides I know well are the two near here and the one in the Dakotas. He looks like one of the species indigenous to the Americas, but like I said, dragons ain't my area of expertise." He rubbed his beard. "There is another way to check who he belongs to."

Jen hissed as if offended. (I am T-Jen! Hear me roar!) He stalked back to Jared and inserted himself under Jared's hand. Jared petted the dragon as ordered. "How?" he asked.

"Like any other animal in the zoo, dragons have a chip inserted. It gives country of birth, zoo of residence, parents. Everything." He was already going to a locked cupboard. "We do the same thing here."

Jared nodded; both Sadie and Harley had chips in case they got lost. "What if he's black market?"

"There _is_ no black market, son," Jim said, slightly condescending. "Not in America."

This time it was Jared's turn to snort. "There's _always_ a black market."

"Maybe overseas, but not here in the USA." Jim's voice was filled with certainty, but Jared barely resisted rolling his eyes. _He_ was supposed to be the naïve one. Whenever anything was prized and hard to get, there'd be a market for it, legal or illegal, everywhere in the world, end of story.

"Maybe it happened before chip technology was developed," Jared suggested diplomatically. Jen looked up at him and chirped. "Maybe he's a wild dragon who just got lost?"

Jim laughed outright. "No such thing as wild North American dragons, son. All the ones that existed have long since been caught and caged."

"Then we're back to stolen or escaped," Jared pointed out.

Jim shrugged. "Maybe. Either way, a captive dragon would have data chips with GPS transmitters inserted, and they're impossible to remove without leaving scars." Jim waved his scanner over the dragon. Then he stopped.

"Huh"

"'Huh' what?" Jared asked when the older man didn't say anything more.

Jim waved the scanner over Harley's head until it beeped softly. Jim showed him the screen. It listed everything: his name (Harley Padalecki), estimated birthday (Dec-1998?), his breed (mastiff-unknown cross), any distinguishing marks (scarring on his left hip), notable health issues (none), and Jared's contact information. It looked like Harley's whole file was stored on that tiny little chip.

"Cool," Jared whispered. He'd known the chip was there, of course, but he'd never seen what it contained.

"Uh-huh. Now watch what I get when I wave it over your boy." Jim waved it over Jen, going slower around the neck but covering every bit of his body. There was no beep and no data.

"What does that mean?" Jared asked.

"It means your boy here doesn't exist." Jim adjusted the frequency and tried again: nothing.

Jim was frowning, scowling actually, and Jared knew the guy was thinking hard. "Okay, so some dipshit captures a wild dragon in the Amazon jungle or some other barely populated corner of the globe; how in the Hell does he smuggle it into the States? And how in the furthest reaches of Damnation, does he _lose_ it again?"

"It would explain the wing," Jared said.

"Whaddya mean?" Jim asked.

Jared didn't have a chance to answer because the door to the public areas swung open with a crash. A kissing couple stumbled through and didn't break apart until Harley barked loud enough to rattle the cupboard doors.

"Oh, sorry, sorry, sorry," Katie purred brightly. "Didn't know this room was occupied."

Her fiancé smiled insincerely at them. "Thought we'd take advantage of these last few minutes before the doors open."

Jared had instinctively put his arm up to block the intruders' view of Jensen, but the dragon didn't make it easier because he hissed long and loud, and lifted his ruff up. He was also trying to dig his claws into the countertop, like a bull preparing to charge. Both Harley and Sadie went into full-on protection mode. Sadie growled and her hackles were up. Harley barked and lunged. It was very loud in the small room.

"Everybody hush!" Jim ordered. Jensen gave a soft whistle and Harley softened his behavior so that he was growling like Sadie.

It was still loud, but now they could speak.

Jim glared at Katie and her fiancé. "You do that in any of the consult rooms, and I'll personally make you clean and disinfect them," Jim said flatly. "Now, since this _is_ a consult, I'd appreciate it you'd leave. Now." Sadie growled as if in emphasis, and where Harley's bark had been loud, Sadie's growl was dangerous.

"She will attack you," Jared said above the noise. "She was trained as a guard dog." It was a lie, but she looked the part. A German Shepherd-cross, possibly with a dingo, Sadie was fucking scary when she was angry.

Katie's fiancé flicked the dog a glance, brows creasing in a brief frown. He looked up at Jim and sneered. "No problem. We were just leaving."

Katie flashed them a smile over her shoulder as Mark turned her toward the door. "Pretty lizard, Jared. I like _lizards_ ," she cooed.

There was silence after the door closed.

"If she wasn't such a bitch," Jared sighed.

"Yeah," Jim said in the same soft tone. The older man gave his head a shake. "But she is, and that boyfriend of hers is a very dangerous man."

"Do you think they saw the wings?"

Jim shrugged. "Maybe. Probably. I dunno, but it's best if we find your boy someplace safe."

"What happens if he's a wild dragon? Or, you know, escaped from a collector," Jared clarified when Jim gave him a look about Jen being a wild dragon. "What happens then?"

"Damned if I know." Jim raised his cap and scratched his head. "It's not like free-range dragons are lying around like dandelions."

Jared looked down at Jen. The little dragon (Jenkens, Jenten, Jensen?) had his eyes half closed. (Jensen sounded cool.) The newly named dragon was enjoying Jared's soothing touch but he was also watching the door. There was something alert and cautious in his stance. Jen hissed. Sadie got to her feet.

Jared looked at the door, wondering what the hell, and then he saw it: shadows along the bottom, shifting but not moving on. He jerked his chin at it and Jim, proving he wasn't just a countrified old codger, took one smooth step to the door and pulled it open.

Pellegrino didn't even have the courtesy to look ashamed. In fact, he smiled. "So it _is_ a dragon. I wasn't sure at first."

It was easy to forget that Jim routinely handled animals that outweighed him by a ton until Jim grabbed the younger man by his suit and dragged him into the room, flinging him halfway onto the counter with enough force to drive the air from Pellegrino's lungs.

"And now that you know, what're you going to do with the information?" Jim growled.

He wasn't the only one. Jensen was making a thrumming sound, and both Sadie and Harley were echoing it.

"Well, that kind of depends on the boy—Jared, isn't it?" Mark barely glanced at him, keeping his eyes on the older man.

"There's not much you can do with a dragon." Jared was still stroking Jensen although he was no longer sure who it was supposed to comfort.

"Really?" Pellegrino's voice dripped superior knowledge. "Did you know there's no eminent domain rule about dragons? The only reason people think all dragons belong to the state is because the state reached out and took them."

"What are you saying?" Jim's growl was nearly as good as Sadie's.

"I'm saying, I could make us all very, very rich." The guy shrugged out of Jim's hold and slid off the counter. He smoothed his jacket, pulling it straight. "You said you didn't recognize its belly pattern. If it isn't from a registered line then we have a completely unencumbered, unclaimed, dragon and there's nothing any government can do to stop us from selling it to the highest bidder." He paused. "Except bid higher, of course."

"How do you know so much about dragons?" Jim asked in a snarly voice. It was a good question, Jared realized. One he should've thought of asking.

"I know a lot about a lot of things—especially if it can make me rich. Or in this case, rich _er_ ," Pellegrino said with a self-satisfied smile. "Dragons definitely fall into the latter category." The guy bent over to get a closer look at Jensen.

Jensen, in turn, raised his ruff, spread his wing, and snarled in what was obviously a threat display.

"Aww; isn't that sweet. He thinks he's a tough guy," Pellegrino cooed. "It's a pity about the wing, but the colors make up for it. They _are_ amazing. I wonder what they fed him to get them so bright. I wonder if he'd pass those colors down. You know," the guy finally addressed Jared directly. "We might make more if we farmed him out as a stud. What do you think?"

"I think you're crazy."

"Poor people are crazy, Jared. I'm eccentric." Pellegrino laughed briefly. "I'm also deadly serious." He reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a card. "When you realize how much you need me to broker this deal, call me. Anytime. Really."

When he didn't take the card, Katie's fiancé tucked it into Jared's shirt pocket and gave it a pat.

"I'll see myself out." A smile, a wave, a final satisfied look, and he was gone.

"Shit," Jim breathed.

"Yeah."

Jim was all for calling Kansas City Zoo immediately, and tucking Jensen away in their back areas, but there was a part of Jared that was convinced the dragon hadn't come from any zoo or illicit breeding operation. He had the feeling that if he handed Jensen over now, he'd never see the dragon again. The government might not be able to claim "eminent domain" over dragons, but they had a lock on "'might makes right."

If Jensen truly was from a new, or at least previously unknown, line then Katie's fiancé was right about the feeding frenzy that was going to result. The American government would have a much stronger claim to Jensen if they already _had_ Jensen. In fact, if Jared wanted to get all _X-Files_ about it, it would be easy enough for them to program a chip saying Jensen had been born in a secret government lab, and to insert it before revealing him to the press. And Jared wouldn't put it past them.

Jared looked down at the dragon and he couldn't condemn him to that.

Jensen was standing at the edge of the counter, looking down on Harley and Sadie. He was chirruping and chirping and generally conversing with the two dogs. Interacting with his environment in a way Jared had never heard of captive dragons doing.

"Jim? Can captive dragons heal themselves from just eating?" he asked, looking at Jensen's right wing: half the size of the other but still more than he'd had yesterday.

"That's just a folk tale, Jared. You know that."

"No. I don't." He took a breath. If he told Jim, it would make Jensen more desirable to the shadowy forces that would already be drooling over him. "When we found Jensen, he was… His right wing was practically gone."

"What do you mean 'gone'?"

"Gone. The skin was shredded and –"Jared pulled his hair back. "And I could see his shoulder joint. It was awful. It's why I originally wanted to talk to you, to find out what I could do to help him heal, but then I…"

"Then you what?" Jim prodded.

"I gave him a warm bath, fed him lots, and let him sleep. In the morning, he was like this," Jared gestured at Jensen's smaller wing. At the first mention of food, Jensen walked back to Jared. He didn't even have to make a sound before Jared reached into his backpack and pulled out the emergency apple. Jensen made a happy sound. "All I could remember were the stories that talked about villages feeding whole cows to their injured dragons, and the dragons being fine after."

Jim's eyebrows had disappeared under his cap. "You fed him a cow?"

Jared cut a good-sized slice off the apple and gave it to the dragon. " _No_! I mean… No. I gave him bananas and sweet potatoes, some farmer's sausage, and an apple this morning. He rarely stops eating,," Jared complained as he fed Jensen another piece of fruit. "but he didn't eat Precious. Oh! And I may have addicted him to coffee." Jensen looked up at him and chirped inquiringly. When no coffee was forthcoming, the dragon went back to chewing on his apple.

"And his bright colors," Jared added, cutting a piece of apple for himself. "That's in the stories, too. All the wild dragons were colorful. Like the ones in Asia."

"The stories also say they were size of small houses," Jim pointed out. Jared was about to tell him that Jensen was half again as big as he'd been when Harley found him, but Jim was already shaking his head.

"Why isn't it possible?" Jared argued. "They're smart, which means they could hide. Better here, where there are still lots of open spaces, than in Europe. And we all know animals that spend generations in captivity _lose_ things, abilities their wild cousins retain. Like apes that don't know how to climb."

"Even if what you say is true, and wild dragons can do all the things the legends say they could; and even if captive dragons have lost those abilities, if there are wild dragons out there, why aren't there more reports about them?"

"Does _World Weekly News_ count?" Jared suggested hopefully.

Jim snorted. "Not hardly. And I don't think a whole town would keep a dragon's presence secret, not in this day and age. Face it, Jared. The most likely explanation is that, until recently, he was kept in a cage somewhere."

Jared fidgeted unhappily but didn't argue. Jim had his mind made up and that was that.

"I'll tell you this, though," Jim said with authority. "Whoever's been looking after this dragon is a frigging genius. You're right about the colors, and if you're right about the healing, whatever his previous caretaker was doing, he was doing it right."

From there the discussion had devolved into an argument over why Jared should let Jim put Jensen into a zoo—any zoo—to keep him safe, and to maybe trap the person who'd owned him before. Jared was okay saying no to that, especially when Jensen climbed up his arm and settled around his neck. Harder to ignore were Jim's fears that people—bad people—would break into Jared's home to steal Jensen. Jim's suggestions on what they could or would do to get their hands on an untagged dragon put Jared's imagination to shame.

"I've seen it done," Jim said, voice dark with menace. "Rare animal traffickers. Brutal. Brutal."

Jared swallowed. He'd seen those pictures, too. Of villages slaughtered because they'd been too close to whatever animal the traffickers had been hunting. He couldn't risk his family. He couldn't… Their safety had to come first.

Jensen started his bullfrog purr. That soft croaking he'd made in the bath and at other times—times when he'd been happy and content. Jensen was making that sound now, all because Jared had fed him an apple and let him curl up on his shoulder. They had time to figure things out—not a lot of time, but surely enough.

"I think it'll be okay," Jared said instead. "I don't think a zoo's the way to go right now."

Jim threw up his hands, calling him an "idjit" among other things. Then he told Jared to get the hell out of the consult room so he—Jim—could do some real work. The old zookeeper muttered and glared, so since Jared wasn't stupid, he got the hell out.

"And don't make any deals with Pellegrino," Jim called out. "It'd be like making a deal with the devil and those never end well. Got me?"

Jared swallowed. "I got you."


	3. Stop, Drop and Freak Out

  
  
  
S FAR AS HE COULD TELL, nobody followed him from the shelter.

Of course, they could have a helicopter in the sky following him. Or there could be a tracking device planted on his car. He hadn't thought to check for bugs; wouldn't know what to look for even if he had.

He looked in the rear-view mirror, checking that the dogs' seat belts were still secure, and prayed that no black SUVs would pour out of side roads to run him into the ditch.

Jensen sprawled obliviously on the front dash, croaking lazily. Stupid dragon refused to hide on the passenger seat.

Jared made it to the store unharmed, possibly unnoticed. He'd have to leave Harley and Sadie in the car while he did his mother's shopping. He knew the dogs would kick up a real fuss if anybody got too close, but if he left Jensen in the car with them, then a truly determined bad guy would probably shoot them to get at the dragon.

He'd have to take Jensen in with him. But how? He could hardly cradle Jensen in his arms, or let him sit on his shoulders like he'd done at the shelter.

Mom's environmental awareness provided the answer.

In order to reduce the number of plastic bags being used, the family had started using cloth bags, always leaving at least one hanging off the back of the passenger seat. Jared could put Jensen in it and carry him around. He would just be a guy in a grocery store, carrying a grocery bag—nicely anonymous.

If Jensen hadn't been mostly asleep when Jared took him off the dash, Jared would never have been able to slip him into it.

Unfortunately, the swing of the bag as he walked woke Jensen up. The little dragon climbed up the inside of the bag, and hung his head out, chittering and chirruping and commenting on just about everything. Jared tried to nudge him back inside with his elbow, but the dragon chirped in excitement as they passed the meat section, clicked disapprovingly in frozen foods, and purred happily when Jared added a bunch of bananas to his mother's short list. He also croaked urgently when they passed the in-house coffee shop, but there was no way Jared was buying Jen some coffee.

To make up for it, Jared threw in a couple mangoes. Next to bananas, mangoes were Jared's favorite fruit, and if Jensen didn't like them, everything else in the house did.

Going through the checkout was both easier and harder than he thought it would be. Easier because he used the self-checkout option, and harder because the machine kept on beeping errors at him, and Jensen started beeping back at it.

"I don't think this thing is going to obey you, Jen," Jared muttered as he once again removed the item from the scanner and hit reset.

"Can I help you?" came a gruff voice.

Jared jumped and looked over at the fifties-ish woman who'd popped up beside him. He was afraid she'd notice the noisy dragon sticking his head out of the bag, but the lady didn't even notice the extra beeping. She helped him and moved off, bored, tired or both. Jared had been terrified. He was sweaty and his heart was thumping.

Thank god he'd never tried shoplifting as a hobby; he'd have sucked so bad at it.

He took a look around as he exited the store, searching for cars with dark windows, or those big, black SUVs. His heart didn't slow down 'til he'd made it through the parking lot and saw Harley and Sadie safe in the back seat. Jared hadn't even realized how worried he'd been. He knew some of it was just his imagination being stupid, but between Katie's creepy fiancé and Jim's scary warnings, Jared thought some of his worry was completely justified.

"It's only being paranoid if there aren't people after you," he told Harley as he looked into the rear foot well, making sure nobody was waiting there to jump out at him as soon as he started driving.

Satisfied with the car, Jared settled Jensen in the passenger seat and got in himself. For once Jensen stayed on the seat while Jared drove. Probably because the little dragon couldn't jump with the carrot Jared had given him as a snack.

Jared watched the mirrors, wiped his damp palms on his thighs, and turned up the air-conditioner. He turned on the radio but was too tense to enjoy the music, so he turned it off again. Jensen lifted his head from the half-devoured vegetable and clicked at him in annoyance until he turned it back on. The dragon chirruped along with "classic rock from the 60s, 70s and 80s" and by the time they got back to the house he'd ceased to find it strange.

He drove up the long driveway and saw his dad's SUV sitting in its spot. It was a little early for him to be home during the week, but working from home occasionally was one of the perks of the job.

Sadie, of course, sat to attention when she saw the vehicle. She was Jared's dog: he'd picked her out, named her, taken care of her. She obeyed him and loved him, but it was Gerald Padalecki she rolled over for.

"Suck-up," Jared said fondly.

He looked but he could see nothing out of place—no strange vehicles, no broken windows. It looked like everything was okay. He let go of the breath he'd been holding, and then he saw Jensen. The dragon had abandoned his mostly eaten carrot and was leaning on the door, peering out the window.

And he was hissing.

Oh shit, Jared thought, what should he do now?

He could leave, turn around and speed off… and leave his parents inside with who knows what. He could call the cops, but he had no proof of anything except that he had a dragon and other people didn't. It could even been government agents in there, waiting. Men in Black types, who'd take Jensen and make everybody's memories disappear.

Shitshitshitshit _shit_! What did he do?

Jensen climbed onto the armrest to flick his wings and furl his ruff at the dogs. He hissed and snarled at Sadie and Harley, and they growled in response. Then the dragon turned to him and growled.

"You wanna fight, huh."

Jensen put his paw on Jared's arm and growled in reassurance. Jared looked down into Jensen's sharp, green eyes, and realized that the dragon had a plan.

"Okay, so how do we do this?" Jared asked the air. "I suppose we pretend this is a normal 'back from a trip' thing. I'll get out; let the dogs out so they can do their business. I'll grab you–"

Jensen clicked his teeth.

"–let you ride on my shoulders so neither of us are encumbered. I'll carry the milk –" Jensen clicked. "You don't think I should carry the milk?" Jared asked and the dragon chirped agreement. Jared sighed. "I suppose it's not really balanced. How many bad guys do you think are in there?" he asked. Then he snorted. "Why am I asking you? You're outside with me."

He started to open his door when he felt Jensen land on his shoulder. The dragon shifted so he could curl his tail around Jared's neck, but after that he chittered as if Jared was taking too long. It took only moments to open the car's back door and let Sadie and Harley out of their harnesses. They ran along the fence, sniffing and taking care of things like normal dogs after a normal trip, while Jared shut the door. He used the fob to lock the doors, making sure the car beeped and the lights flashed. "Lucy! We're ho-ome," he muttered and tried not to be nervous.

Jensen whistled, high-pitched and piercing right next to his ear.

"Ow," Jared whispered. Jensen gave him an apologetic lick.

Harley and Sadie instantly jogged up to them, yapping and hopping. Nobody but a Padalecki would see anything strange in their behavior. Outside of the dogs, nobody but Jared, with a dragon right under his ear would hear the near-silent hissing and whistling that Jensen was doing. When Jared walked up the steps to the back porch, he had the feeling he was the only one who didn't know exactly how many bad guys were waiting for them in the kitchen.

Not for the first time, Jared wondered if Jensen was telepathic. It would explain how the dragon seemed to understand him, and it would certainly explain the dragon-speaker legends. He was beginning to realize how much people didn't know about dragons, or maybe he should say how much they'd forgotten. So far Jensen had healed a serious injury, talked to (and bossed around) Jared's pets, and maybe Jared, too. It was uncomfortable.

This whole situation was uncomfortable and scary and he was so far out of his depth…

Jensen let out a low trill and Jared took a steadying breath. It would be okay. They'd be okay.

He opened the door. "Hey, Mama. I couldn't find the pistachios!"

"Forget the pistachios," growled an unknown male voice from beside the door. "Give us the dragon."

Jensen roared, and Jared dropped to his knees automatically. Harley jumped over him, right into the bad guy, hitting him full in the chest. The powerful mastiff knocked the stranger to the ground heavily enough to crack a couple ribs. Sadie did the same thing to the guy pointing the gun at Jared's parents. She didn't growl much. She just charged, teeth bared, right at his throat. The attacker scrambled to shift the gun, as if to shoot Sadie, but Olive flew out from nowhere, and started clawing and pecking at his face.

Jared picked up the baseball bat that was always in the corner by the door, and did a line drive on the first guy's head. Jared spun towards the second guy, lifting the bat, getting ready to swing. Jensen cawed like a crow and Olive flew onto the counter and out of the way. Jared swung. Solid hit. The second guy dropped like a bag of flour.

Or like a dead guy.

Not that Jared had ever seen a dead guy, except for his granddaddy, but that had been in a casket at the funeral home, and not like an _actual_ dead guy. He switched off that thought, because he didn't have time to be shocked, or to throw up, which he kind of wanted to do.

He needed to free his parents, tie up the goons—if they weren't dead—and call the police.

"Did you kill them?" his mama asked. Her shaky, thin voice sounded completely unlike her.

"I don't know, Mama," Jared answered, as he cut through the plastic ties holding his daddy to the chair.

"I'll check," Dad said, rubbing his wrists. "You free your mother and call the police."

"Please tie them up, Gerald," she said. "I don't care if you can't find a pulse. You tie them up using all the rope we have."

Dad had to work around the dogs. Both of them refused to move from their spots guarding the criminals.

"I can feel this one's pulse," he said of the second guy, the one who'd pointed the gun at them. The gun was right under Jared's feet and far too close to everyone for him to feel comfortable, so he gave it a soft kick and it slid through the doorway into the stairwell.

"You okay, Mama?" he asked as he rubbed the indents in her wrists where the tie had cut in.

"I'll be okay, Baby. It's not the first time I've had a gun pointed my way."

Who said being a teacher was an easy job?

He couldn't stop himself from giving her a hug, rocking her and feeling her breath on his shoulder. He'd forgotten one important thing, however.

"Jared," she said hesitantly. "Is that a lizard on your shoulder?"

Jensen didn't like being called a lizard, so he clicked at her.

"Hush, Jen. She can't see your wings. Actually, Mama… Dad; this is Jen. Jensen." Jared took a breath and finished it. "He's a dragon and I think he saved our lives."

Mama gasped and thumped back in her chair. Dad spun around so fast he nearly fell over. Harley barked and did a doggy tap-dance on his captive's chest. Jensen limited himself to croaking triumphantly and showing off his ruff.

* * *

The state police came and gawked.

Jared had tried to keep Jensen's existence a secret, but Jensen refused to hide away in the pet room upstairs. Each time Jared approached the stairwell, Jensen would hiss and chitter. Then he'd slither out of Jared's hold and head back into the kitchen to stand guard over the bad guys trussed up on the floor. He was as protective as Sadie and more impossible to order around than Harley. The only thing that took the dragon's attention away from his captives was food. Even then, Jen stared at the bad guys as he chewed.

When the first trooper arrived, Jensen snarled at him and spread his small ruff and his wings to make himself look fiercer. It had about as much effect on the trooper as it had had on Pellegrino. The guy's jaw had dropped. "Holy shit! That's a dragon!" he'd shouted.

When he said it, he'd been on the radio to his dispatcher. On his _open_ radio.

It took three minutes for the trooper to convince his dispatcher that yes, he had said "dragon" and no, he had been neither joking nor toking.

Then the bad guys started screaming about how they were diplomatic agents here from Spain to retrieve the dragon Jared had stolen from them. Their claim of ownership was laughable.. Everyone knew Spain had no dragons of its own, hadn't since the Napoleonic Wars. Those currently in their zoos had been gifts or purchased from other countries.

One of the troopers laughed, when he was told Goon 1 was claiming diplomatic immunity

"That ain't no Spanish agent," he said. "That's Alistair the Butcher. He's a specialist, works on contract."

"Contract for whom?" the lieutenant asked.

"That crooked lady lawyer, Katherine Boecher and her pal, Pellegrino."

Jared jumped when he heard the familiar name. Holy shit, he thought, Katie's fiancé had just tried to steal Jensen. Unless he'd told someone…

Jared rejected that possibility. Pellegrino wouldn't risk losing his share to a competitor.

Well, he'd tried and failed. Now that officialdom was involved, he'd lost his chance.

When the sergeant from the state police (who was a placeholder until the lieutenant arrived) searched their pockets, both Goon 1 and Goon 2 had diplomatic passports. From Spain. They were done badly enough that even _Jared_ could see they were fake.

Didn't matter.

Diplomatic passports (fake or not) meant politics and scandal. Politics and scandal meant international incident. International incident and _dragons_ meant reporters.

And faster than Jared would've thought possible.

The lieutenant, when she arrived, called in more troopers to ensure the news vans moved to the end of the drive, but she couldn't stop the helicopters from flying overhead. Their phone, the one with the number listed in the phone book, started ringing nonstop. At first, Dad answered each call but he gave that up and let them go to the machine. He used Jared's phone to start calling everyone he knew, attempting to get some control over the situation.

The ambulances arrived to haul away the bad guys, but the kitchen was still far too small to hold everything and everyone. He and his parents moved into the dining room, dragging Harley with them because the big lug didn't want to leave when there was so much attention to be had. Once again, it took Jensen's soft chirp to make the dog behave.

Jared let go of Harley's collar and stood up. He looked right into the glares of both his parents. His mama sat in the tall chair at the head of the table, and his daddy stood—towered, actually—behind her, arms crossed and stern faced.

"You didn't think to tell us you'd found a dragon?" Gerald Padalecki's voice was completely neutral, but somehow more condemning for it. It was his courtroom voice and it made Jared swallow nervously.

"Mama said no more animals," Jared answered lamely. "But he was hurt. I couldn't just leave him."

"He isn't hurt," Dad pointed out and it was an accusation.

Under his ear, Jensen clicked in warning. Jared managed to shrug. "He healed. I fed him, and he healed right away."

"That's a fairy tale," Mama said.

Again, Jared shrugged. What else could he say, after all?

His dad sighed, letting his arms drop as he let go some of his anger. "Did you not think of what would happen when the news got out? The effect it would have on us, our family? The police have sent cars—as in 'more than one'—to pick up your sister because criminals might think to kidnap her and use her to get at the dragon. Campus police are escorting your brother to his classes as we speak, and that may not be enough to keep him safe."

Jared had heard his dad discussing it on the phone, and then with the lieutenant. He'd been grateful someone had thought of it.

"Yes, sir, I did think of all that, and I wasn't going to keep Jensen," Jared answered. "I went to talk to Jim Beaver at the shelter; he knows zoo stuff so I figured he'd know who I had to talk to, to get Jensen back where he belonged. When I went in, I thought I had his wings covered, but we bumped into Katie and her fiancé, and they—or rather he figured it out—but he was looking for a percentage of whatever deal we made, so he wouldn't've told anyone. Although, I think he was behind the goons that took you hostage, so I don't know. Maybe someone else called the news guys?"

"You said Katie's fiancé was behind the attack?" Dad asked.

Jared nodded. "Mark Pellegrino. He's some kind of shady entrepreneur, I guess. Jim didn't trust him."

"Pellegrino…" Dad's frown deepened. "Tell me everything." So Jared described what had happened at the shelter: what he'd been thinking, what Jim had said, what Pellegrino had offered, (he left out what Katie had seemed to be offering; no way he was mentioning that in front of his mama).

His father listened and asked questions. "I've heard of Mark Pellegrino," he said when Jared was finished. "He's a lawyer, though he doesn't practice. He's got a reputation of being ruthless, selfish, and only borderline ethical. Jim Beaver was right to warn you not to make any deals with him. But, son," Dad brought his hand up to engulf Jared's shoulder, "After all that happened at the shelter, all the warnings you received, why did you still go shopping?"

Jared looked at his dad in surprise. "Because Mama told me to."

He wasn't sure why it made his parents laugh, but it broke the tension and let Jared know they'd be okay. They'd get through this.

When they returned to the kitchen, the number of bodies had doubled even though the bad guys were gone. It was like a wrestling ring. In one corner, there was his family. In the corner next to them were the state cops. In the next corner stood a group of serious people in plain suits that screamed FBI, and in the corner by the back door was a man in a suit that was obviously hand-tailored and expensive.

The lieutenant and the FBI-looking guys were talking, so Expensive-Suit-guy stepped forward and stuck out his hand to Jared's father. Dad took it and gave it one brief shake.

"Mr. Padalecki—Gerald. I'm Kurt Fuller, Deputy Director of Operations for Domestic Affairs." He handed over a business card. He was a tall man, though not as tall as Jared's dad. Not many people were. He was a solidly built white man in his forties or fifties, nicely dressed and confident of his own power. He smiled the smile of the professional politician, or a corporate lawyer—Jared had met enough of Dad's former colleagues to recognize the type.

Perched on his shoulder, Jensen softly clicked and hissed. Jared felt tempted to tell the dragon he didn't need the warning.

"Bureau of Diplomatic Security," Dad read aloud. "State Department."

"I'm here to talk to you about the dragon."

"It's Jared's dragon," his mama said.

Deputy Director Fuller smiled, but it didn't reach his pale blue eyes. "That's one of the things we'll need to discuss." He turned to Jared and put out his hand again. Jared took it, meaning to give it a shake like his father had, but Mr. Fuller didn't let go. Instead, he pulled Jared closer and growled, "So you're the young man we have to thank for this mess."

"Um…" Jared's mind blanked as he shook the man's hand.

"You don't really think you can keep him, do you?" the deputy director asked. His voice was slyly contemptuous and his grip was close to crushing.

Then his mama put out her hand and forced Mr. Fuller to release his. "I'm Sherri Padalecki," she said with a razor-sharp smile. "But you can call me Sharon."

From the side, one of the feds approached, stalking across the room like it actually _was_ a warrior's circle. He was a slim, stark presence, with his dark skin and his dark suit. His intensity threw the DDO's attempt at intimidation to the floor and stomped on it. But the first thing he did was put his hand out, fingers down, and let both Harley and Sadie sniff him, reassuring the big dogs that he wasn't a threat.

Jensen chirped uncertainly when Jared put out his hand, which probably meant the dragon thought this guy could go either way.

"I'm Special Agent Charles Whitfield, Diplomatic Security. I'm here to keep you safe. All of you."

Jared shook the agent's hand, and even though his hand was larger, he still felt dwarfed by it. "Jared."

The agent introduced himself to each of them. He started to explain where he'd positioned his force and what his agents were doing to keep them safe.

"That's great, Charlie," Mr. Fuller broke in. "I'm sure they feel much better about their safety. I know I do. Now let's get down to brass tacks."

Jensen clicked and sneezed. Jared agreed with him.

The director turned to Dad, putting his back to Jared and cutting his mother out of the conversation, too. "You have a dragon you have no way of taking care of."

"He's been doing fine so far," Mama stepped around the bureaucrat.

Mr. Fuller smiled down at her condescendingly. "Blind luck."

Jensen chirped softly. "And lots of nagging," Jared whispered back. Jensen hit the back of Jared's head with his tail. Jensen chirped again and Jared sighed and grabbed a banana.

"Dragons belong to the nation–" Mr. Fuller began.

"Actually, they don't," Jared broke in. "There's no law giving control of the dragons to the state. That's what Mr. Pellegrino said," Jared answered his dad's questioning look.

The Deputy Director's smile was tight and cold. "The fact of the matter is that your little stunt has created a shit storm with your family at the center."

"Language," Mama chastised.

"We know the kind of chaos that has ensued," Dad said. "We also know there's going to be a media and diplomatic feeding frenzy until the dragon's situation is settled. The university is already getting calls from talk shows trying to track Jared down for interviews and pictures."

Dad's announcement shook Jared; he was famous? "They want to interview me?"

Mr. Fuller gave him a pitying smile. "They want pictures of the dragon."

"That could well be true," Dad agreed. "It's why I've called in a specialist."

Deputy Director Fuller's smile this time was a bit more uncertain. "A specialist?"

"Indeed," Dad replied blandly. He turned to the agent. "Special Agent Whitfield, please have your men allow Misha Collins access to the property. He should be arriving shortly. I have a picture if you need it."

A quick flash of white teeth against the agent's dark skin. "I know him. I've worked with him a time or two." Special Agent Whitfield glanced at the deputy director and Jared suddenly knew that the agent didn't like his boss very much.

"Misha Collins?" Deputy Director Fuller said, tight-voiced. "You contacted Misha Collins?"

"He was recommended to me."

"He was thrown out of the Department in disgrace. You do realize that."

Dad clasped his hands in front of him, and rocked his considerable height. "I was given a rundown of his history. He resigned because you had nothing to charge him with. Disagreeing with bureaucratic policy isn't a crime, after all."

"Not yet," his mama muttered.

"He's an environmental extremist, who is _this close_ to being a terrorist," Mr. Fuller said, bringing up a hand, thumb and forefinger about a quarter of an inch apart. "His ideas are romantic nonsense based on fairy tales and fireside stories."

"Are they fairy tales?" Mama asked.

"Of course they're fairy tales," he sneered. "Have you ever seen a dragon as big as a house?"

"No," she conceded, "but his heali–"

Jensen whistled softly and both Harley and Sadie began barking and howling. Olive joined in whistling and calling. It was deafening. His mother looked at Dad first then at him. She received the same tiny headshake from each of them.

"Wow," Deputy Director Fuller said backing away from Harley's enthusiasm. "That's a big dog. Is he trained?"

Jared shrugged. "Mostly."

Harley bounced a step closer to the bureaucrat. Jared didn't know whether he should care that Harley was making the guy nervous, but he was glad the distraction had worked. "Harley, Sadie, down!" he said forcefully, trying to believe he'd be obeyed.

Jensen gave another soft whistle and the dogs quieted, sitting at his feet like angels. Olive flew over to perch on his mama's shoulder, and began preening as if she did this every day.

Special Agent Whitfield returned to the group. "The officers at the entrance have been given Mr. Collins' picture. They'll let him in."

"Then I think this discussion is over until we can talk with Mr. Collins," Dad announced. He lifted his arm, sheltering his wife. "Why don't we go wait in the TV room?"

"Um, I need to check the others, get them fresh water and stuff," Jared said.

His dad looked at him a moment. "Very well. Then Mr. Fuller and Special Agent Whitfield and their men can wait in the TV room." He looked at the Deputy Director. "We need the kitchen."

Jared pretended not to hear Special Agent Whitfield's choked-off laugh.

* * *

  
"When are they going to leave?" Mama asked, as they chopped up the food for Reggie and Jackson. They could hear Mr. Fuller arguing with Gerald Padalecki at the bottom of the stairs.

"I don't think they're going to; not until Jensen's where they want him," Jared answered, busy rescuing at least some of the fruit for the turtles. "Dude! You've had enough mango."

Jensen made his chuffing "that's so funny" noise.

"You know, it truly sounds like he's laughing," Mama said, raising an eyebrow at the dragon and Jensen flared out his ruff as if agreeing. Then he gave his bullfrog purr-croak, curled up in a stray bit of sunshine and closed his eyes.

"At least you found a truly handsome dragon," she said. She gave Jensen a quick stroke down his spine. Jensen sleepily spread his wings to give her better access.

When Jensen had done that in the kitchen, to balance himself on Jared's shoulder, there'd been "oohs" from the troopers present. Jared understood the feeling. This was probably the closest any of them would ever come to a dragon. The ones in zoos were "national treasures," and like most national treasures, the nation wasn't allowed too close. Plus Jensen was spectacular: his colors were so vivid and the pattern so intricate. But that wasn't what made Jared catch his breath now.

Jensen's wings were the same size.

Last night he'd had bone showing. This morning, there'd been a wing but way too small. Now, he was normal. Picture perfect, in fact. It was also possible, now Jared was looking closely at him, that Jensen had grown again.

Jared laid his forearm down on the table next to the dragon, elbow by Jensen's head. He coaxed him to straighten out, a line from toe to tail.

Shit, he had grown… A lot. And Jared didn't only mean Jen's mango-filled belly either.

Yesterday, the tip of his tail had barely extended to Jared's fingers. Now, his tail would reach nearly to his shoulder. If he kept growing like this, it wouldn't take long for him to be too big for the house.

And there was another story almost confirmed.

"Do dragons grow in proportion to what they eat?" he asked the dopey creature. "If we feed you lots you get big; is that how it works?" Did poorer areas have smaller dragons?

Jensen burped at him.

"Honey! Jared!" Dad called up the stairs, cutting off Jared's train of thought. "Mr. Collins has just turned up the drive."

* * *

  
Jared and his mama finished up quickly, putting Reggie and Jackson back in their massive terrarium and washing up in the small bathroom. They joined Dad and Mr. Fuller and Harley, Sadie and Olive in the front room. Dad had set out the thermal coffee carafe with the matching sugar bowl and cream pitcher, a couple mugs, and a plate of Mama's homemade cookies. Harley whined at the treat he knew he wasn't allowed to sneak and retreated to sulk in the corner with Sadie.

Jared watched a chartreuse VW van, covered with hippie flowers and tourist stickers trundle up the drive. It was convoyed on either side by intimidating black SUVs.

"Well," Dad murmured. "I was warned he was… different."

"I told you; the man's a looney-toon," Mr. Fuller sneered. "We had to let him go when his symptoms became apparent, and his behavior… well, 'embarrassing' doesn't truly cover it. I really think that whoever recommended him to you was an idiot."

Dad turned to look down on the bureaucrat. "Since you don't know who recommended him to me, that was a rather broad generalization, and possibly stupid as well, considering the people I know."

Mama snorted delicately and Jensen chuffed with her.

It really did sound like laughter.

They watched in silence as the vanagon pulled to a stop in front of their house, and a slim man stepped out of the vehicle. Dark-haired, pale-skinned, he wore a dark suit and a bland trench coat, and he carried a large purple sack that didn't qualify as either a briefcase or gym bag. It looked like something Indiana Jones would carry, except bigger. And purple.

Special Agent Whitfield and a couple members of his team were waiting on the front porch. As Mr. Collins moved away from his van, the agents surrounded him. The inner door was open and Jared had no trouble hearing the conversation between Special Agent Whitfield and Mr. Collins.

"Hello, Charles," Mr. Collins said. "I see you're still with the Bureau." He handed his bag over to the agent and lifted his arms.

"What can I say?" Agent Whitfield said back. "I like the company… most of the time. Where else could I meet unique individuals such as yourself?" Both men chuckled. It was obviously a private joke.

A couple of the other agents began waving wands over Mr. Collins while Agent Whitfield shifted through the massive bag. The oh-so-serious agent didn't seem at all discomfited at holding a huge purple sack.

"You're checking him for guns?" Mama asked, lifting a hand to her throat. "Really? There are already so many guys with guns around here, what difference will one more make?"

"Guns are only one of the things he'll be checked for," Mr. Fuller confirmed. "He'll also be checked for recording devices and biological contaminants."

Outside, Mr. Collins asked, "Who did they send?"

Inside, his dad looked down at Deputy Director Fuller. "You think he's going to poison us?"

Mr. Fuller laughed lightly, surface humor only. "No, no, nothing like that. It's to protect the dragon. They're actually very fragile creatures," he explained. "Delicate systems—susceptible to all kinds of bugs and bacteria."

It didn't need Jensen's dismissive clicking to have Jared staring in disbelief at the older man. Jensen had _regrown_ his _wing_. That was hardly "fragile" or "delicate." Of course, he didn't know that, and Jared wasn't about to tell him, either.

"Ahh, Kurt," said Mr. Collins in dry tones. "This could be interesting."

Agent Whitfield rolled his head. "Ya think?" He was still holding the big purple bag because the other agents had put away their magic wands and were patting Mr. Collins down.

"Now, they're looking for a wire," Mr. Fuller explained to Jared's father. "We don't want him recording our conversation and then using it to promote his twisted agenda."

"You do know that you're Number 1 on his personal hit list?" Agent Whitfield said with a laugh. Jared looked at the deputy director, wondering what his reaction to hearing this was. There was nothing, really; just the same shark-like focus.

"Hardly surprising," Mr. Collins said. "He mentored me, trained me, and, in his eyes, I betrayed him—gave up everything on a whim."

"No health plan; no pension," Agent Whitfield agreed.

"No guilt; no ass-kissing," Mr. Collins returned. "It's a good trade."

Mr. Fuller's expression hadn't changed at all, so either he had the best poker face of anyone Jared had ever seen, or he hadn't heard them. Well, he considered, the director _was_ old. Maybe he was going deaf?

He turned back to the door and saw that the two had climbed the stairs to the porch. As they took the few steps to the door, Jared watched Special Agent Whitfield pull his professional persona around himself. The agent opened the door for the newcomer. "Misha Collins," he announced. "He's clean." He then gave a nod that covered every person in the room, and went back down the stairs to wait in the yard.

Jared dragged his gaze away from the agent and back to the man who was going to help them sort his mess out. He was shorter than Dad by a foot—average height, in other words. He had dark hair, blue eyes, chapped lips, and with his cheap suit and tan trench coat, he looked like he'd watched too much _Columbo_ as a child. It may have looked like a silly affectation, but there was nothing laughable in his eyes as he gave them all an assessing look. He stopped when his gaze reached the deputy director. He nodded at Mr. Fuller. Mr. Fuller nodded back.

It was like warriors saluting each other before battle, Jared thought.

Then Mr. Collins stepped forward and extended his hand to Jared's dad.

"Mr. Padalecki, noble sir," Mr. Collins said. He stared upward intently, unblinking and unintimidated.

Dad froze at the designation. "Gerald," he corrected. He shook Mr. Collins' hand once briskly and let go.

Mr. Collins switched his intent gaze to Jared's mama. "Ms. Padalecki. My lady, you have a _wonderful_ aura."

Jared thought Mr. Collins would've kissed his mama's hand if she had let him, but she only blushed and gave him a firm shake. "Sherri."

"Sherri," the guy repeated as if savoring her name. Jared looked at his dad to see his reaction to Mr. Collins' blatant flirting, but Gerald Padalecki looked more amused than indignant He noticed Jared looking at him and quirked an eyebrow, and Jared understood that his father knew his wife was fully capable of shutting down Mr. Collins all on her own. She didn't need Dad to come to her rescue—or if she did, she'd ask.

Jennifer had always expected Jared to just know, and of course, he hadn't. He'd expected her to tell him—just like Dad expected Mama to.

Huh.

Maybe he and Jennifer had been doomed to fail right from the start.

Jared pulled himself out of the past when Mr. Collins finally turned to him and held out his hand. Oddly, Jared felt as if he'd been struck by lightning, or caught naked at school.

"Young Master Jared." He took Jared's hand in both of his.

"I–just Jared." It felt like Mr. Collins was trying to stare into Jared's soul.

"Hmm. You have a way with animals," Mr. Collins announced, still holding Jared's hand.

Jared blinked. "I like them," he said uncertainly, and pulled his hand away as subtly as he could.

"And they like you. You may call me Misha," he said. Then he smiled. It wasn't a big smile, but it was honest and honestly happy. He shifted his gaze to Jared's shoulder. "This is obviously the dragon in question."

Jared was aware that Jensen had inched across his shoulder. The dragon was now perched on the top of his arm, right on the joint, and his claws were digging into Jared's deltoid muscle. Jen was stretching closer to the newcomer, staring at Mr. Collins as intently as Mr. Collins had stared at Jared.

"I heard about Mark Pellegrino's interest," Mr. Collins said. "He offered to make you rich by auctioning him off or using him as a stud?"

Jared shifted nervously. "Yeah, he did, but –"

Mr. Collins looked at Jared. "You don't want to be rich?"

"I do, I mean, I don't want to _starve_. But I don't want Jen to be unhappy either." He reached up to scratch Jensen's chin and the dragon did his frog-croak thing. The dragon's eyes closed, but in no way did Jared think Jen wasn't alert to everything going on.

"You've named him," Mr. Collins stated in the same flat tone.

Jared shrugged. "Yeah. Of course." Mr. Collins hummed but said nothing else.

Mama invited them all to sit, waving at the small grouping of furniture. Jared sat next to his mother on the couch while Dad took up position behind them, leaning on the back. Mr. Collins and Mr. Fuller took chairs to the side of the couch and across the coffee table from each other. A formal arrangement the family never used.

Mr. Fuller chose the stiff wingback whose design hadn't changed in nearly two hundred years. He sat carefully, pulling up his trouser legs so he didn't ruin the crease, before carefully crossing his legs. He fussed with his jacket so it wouldn't wrinkle.

Mr. Collins swirled his trench coat, letting it flare then fall. Then he sat, putting his bag down beside him. As if it were an invitation, Harley and Sadie moved to sit on either side of his chair. It put them facing the two agents standing discreetly in the corners, and made Jared think they were standing guard, watching for any hostile move. Even Olive, bright and friendly, flew over to perch on the back of Mr. Collins' chair, and then stared across the coffee table at the deputy director.

Jensen gave an approving purr that Jared resolutely ignored. The dragon was _not_ ordering around the other animals like a general in an army.

Mama did her hostess thing, pouring coffee and offering around peanut-butter cookies. Jared took one, which he wound up sharing with the greedy dragon because he refused to get Jensen any coffee. He'd put out water for Jensen and that would have to do.

Mr. Fuller frowned at him when he gave Jen half his cookie, but he said nothing. He took neither coffee nor cookie. Mr. Collins took the coffee but refused the cookie. Instead he reached into his bag and pulled out a pint-sized container of yoghurt. "You don't mind do you? It's hard to eat while I'm driving."

Mama allowed it graciously, passing him one of the coffee spoons. He smiled thanks and she blushed a delicate pink.

"About Mr. Pellegrino, which was one of your father's major concerns," he said as he worked the container open. "You're the center of a media storm. Everyone knows you have a dragon so there's no one he can… er… 'rat you out' to. Therefore, he can no longer threaten you or… Jen, is it?"

"Jen. Jensen," Jared confirmed. "It _was_ Jenny, but that was before I knew he was male." Mr. Collins gave him that smile again. It made Jared squirm and feel good at the same time, which was something he'd never had happen before—not because of a _guy_.

"What about his thugs?" Mama asked.

"The State Department is handling them," Deputy Director Fuller answered. "Until the issue of their supposed diplomatic status is resolved, but that shouldn't take long."

"So he has no hold over us anymore?" Jared asked.

"None," Mr. Collins answered. "It was a smart move on Mr. Beaver's part, calling your father and the media. Even though Mr. Pellegrino moved quickly–"

"Wait," Jared interrupted. "Jim called the press?"

"Yes."

"It was foolhardy," Mr. Fuller snapped.

"It was strategic," Mr. Collins countered. Mr. Collins ripped off the top of the yoghurt container. "It would be a lot harder for Jared and Jensen to disappear when surrounded by reporters, than if Jensen's presence was still a secret. Unfortunately, Mr. Pellegrino moved faster than the news vans." He was stirring the fruit up from the bottom of the container, mixing it into the creamy substance, and the action released the scent. It was peach yoghurt. Jared could smell the rich tang from here.

So could Jensen.

The dragon chirruped softly, and tiptoed out from behind Jared's neck where he'd retreated to eat his cookie (Jared could feel the crumbs down his shirt). A couple steps down Jared's chest, wings out for balance, and Jensen chirped inquisitively.

Mr. Collins stopped stirring and looked at the dragon. "Do you want some?" he asked.

Jensen wuffed like Harley did when offered a dubious treat.

"Don't be ridiculous, Collins." Deputy Director Fuller leaned forward angrily. "You can't give dairy products to a dragon. Their digestive systems can't handle it."

Jensen clicked in irritation, but the comment worried Jared enough for him to put a restraining hand on the dragon's back. Jensen clicked again. Jared tightened his hold, bringing his other hand around to hold him. "What do you mean?"

Jensen sighed and settled on Jared's thigh, waiting.

"Think of dragons as highly— _highly_ —lactose intolerant," Mr. Fuller answered. "They can't digest it and it can make them very, very sick."

"Nonsense," Mr. Collins said in reply. He picked up one of the empty coffee cups and jiggled it. "There are many reports of villages in the Netherlands offering twenty-pound cheese wheels to their dragon with no ill effects." He put down the cup with a frown.

"Those are mere stories," Mr. Fuller dismissed, sitting back. "Fairy tales like _Little Red Riding Hood_ and _Goldilocks_."

Mr. Collins ignored him. "Do you have a sturdier dish, with lower sides?" he asked Mama with a soft smile. She stood up to get one from the kitchen.

Jensen gave a low whistle and Harley went with her. Mr. Collins' eyebrows went up but he said nothing. Instead he continued with the last topic. "In the V _iventem Cum Dracones—_ "

"Which is a myth," Mr. Fuller interrupted.

"Which I've seen in the Vatican Library," Mr. Collins countered gently, taking a sip of his coffee. "In the V _iventem Cum Dracones_ , which is a manual on co-habiting with dragons printed in 1483, there is a section on food preferences, and dairy products are definitely included."

"Is there anything they can't eat?" Jared stroked his hand down Jensen's spine. It fit comfortably between his wings now.

"Nothing that they knew of in 1483, up to and including branches from certain trees," was Mr. Collins' placid response. "And, despite church reports of the time, they weren't carrion-eaters. They'd leave an area if there was nothing but the dead to eat. Most of the chronicles of the plague pandemic of 1347 mention that."

"Folk tales and legends," Mr. Fuller repeated. "Modern science has proven—"

"Nothing," It was Mr. Collins' turn to interrupt. "Like other wild creatures, dragons suffer when kept in captivity. It wouldn't surprise me if those pale imitations in the zoos _do_ have a problem with yoghurt. It would surprise me very much if this fine fellow did."

Jensen cooed.

Mama returned with a ceramic dish she used for putting out candies. Mr. Collins thanked her and started spooning yoghurt into it. Under his hands, Jensen started pulling against his hold. Jared was torn. The two "experts" disagreed on whether it was a good idea for Jen to eat the stuff, and he had no frigging clue which of them was right. Jensen wanted to, but the dragon would eat anything, so that didn't count. Mr. Fuller had said dragons eating cheese was a "mere story," but Jensen's healing abilities and his "talking" had been "mere stories" too.

He lifted his hands and let Jen go.

Jensen walked to the end of Jared's knee then hopped delicately onto the coffee table. He scooted over to where Mr. Collins was dropping another spoonful of peach yoghurt into the dish, and chirruped at him questioningly.

"Nearly done," Mr. Collins answered.

Jared felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up at his dad, who looked at him and then at Jensen, eyebrow lifted in question. Jared could only shrug and sigh in answer. He had so many questions that he couldn't voice or couldn't expect answers to. Dad seemed to understand, though. He gave Jared a small smile and a tight nod, and went back to looming over them all.

On the table, Jensen had climbed onto the side of the dish, front legs braced so he wouldn't fall in. He had his tongue out, not quite touching the yoghurt, but sensing it or something. It reminded Jared of what snakes did.

"Did you know that dragons aren't reptiles?" Mr. Collins asked, as if reading Jared's mind.

"Yes, actually. I did," Mama answered. "They have their own classification: _dracones_."

Mr. Collins nodded approvingly. "They're warm-blooded, but they lay eggs. They produce milk, but also regurgitate partially digested food to feed their young. Their joints are like lizards' but their actual bone structure is that of birds. It's probably why they can fly."

"They don't fly," Mr. Fuller said. "They can glide a little, but that's it."

"They said caiques couldn't fly, but Olive manages fine," Mama said with a sniff.

Jensen was too busy slurping up the yoghurt to comment.

"This is all very interesting," Dad said. "But that's not why we're here. What are our options—honestly? Are we about to be invaded by black marketers or Special Ops, all after Jensen and willing to kill us?"

"Gerald!" Mama protested.

"Actually, Mrs. Padalecki–"

"It's _Ms._ Padalecki, or Sharon," Mama corrected.

The deputy director smiled tightly. "The fact of the matter is that you _will_ become targets—all of you. The dragon your son found seems to be from a rare family–"

"He means 'unknown'," Mr. Collins explained.

"From a _rare_ family, likely a cross between one of the earliest European imports and a native species," Mr. Fuller continued. "Asian and African dragons are much smaller and more prolific than the European families, but even they fetch nearly a million dollars on the black market—that's the _medical_ black market. The organs and skin are harvested to make folk remedies. That's what will probably happen to this dragon."

Black market, Jared noticed. He'd thought so. Mr. Beaver _had_ been wrong.

"Of all the black market 'dragon livers' confiscated since the _Endangered Species Act_ of 1973, ninety-four percent of them have been anything _but_ dragon livers. Same with dragon hearts, dragon paws, dragon testicles, and any other body part you can name," Mr. Collins countered. He didn't even lift his gaze from his yoghurt.

"And the other six percent?" Jared asked. His hands clenched and released, useless and empty on his knees.

"Those were from dragons, but tests showed that they were at the upper age limit for captive dragons. They might have been killed for their organs, but only after they'd lived a long, long time." He put his container down on the table, his dirty spoon on the plate Mama had provided. "Your Mr. Pellegrino was right–"

"He's not _my_ Mr. Pellegrino," Jared muttered.

"–when he said you could make a lot of money putting Jensen out to stud." Mr. Collins leaned into the back of his chair and clasped his hands over his stomach. "Dragons in full captivity rarely breed. When they do, their litters are small. Only the Giant Pandas of China are more difficult to mate."

"That's why it's so important that this dragon be taken into government custody right away," Mr. Fuller said.

"I'd heard that successful matings were rare," Mama said, ignoring the bureaucrat. "The articles said it was because it was hard to get other governments to agree to loan out their dragons."

"That's certainly part of it," Mr. Fuller said.

Mr. Collins nodded. "That, plus a snobbish sense of 'my dragons are better than your dragons.' Thus America doesn't ask South Korea to lend us a dragon, and Germany barely looks beyond its immediate neighbors. Quite frankly, it's no wonder the world's dragons are becoming sickly and weak. They're so overbred –"

"With advances in artificial insemination and _in vitro_ fertilization–"

"It doesn't help when most captive dragons are descendants of the same thirty dragon prides that were caged back in the beginning, meaning it's the same limited gene pool. Occasionally," Mr. Collins continued relentlessly, "a dragon will be born that shows traits that are _not_ from any of the known prides, but there's never an explanation of why. It's because they bought the sperm or the egg from black-marketers."

"They do that?" Jared asked in shock.

Mr. Collins nodded. "All the time."

Deputy Director Fuller glared at the younger man. Mr. Collins stared placidly back.

"So they'd take Jensen and breed him?" Mama asked. "Like that Pellegrino man said."

"They are unlicensed, unregulated, and unscrupulous," the deputy director declared.

" _That_ is certainly true." Mr. Collins agreed. "Governments know they exist, but that's about it. Do they have trained veterinarians working for them?" He shook his head. "Don't know. Do they give the dragons anything _close_ to a reasonable space for them to live in? Don't know that either."

"It could be like those puppy mills," Jared said in horror.

Both Mr. Fuller and Mr. Collins nodded.

Jared knew that going underground with Jensen wasn't a possibility. He looked at the dragon, snout deep in peach yoghurt, lifting his head up occasionally to croak happily as he gorged himself. There's no way Jared would risk losing Jensen to a "dragon mill."

"What about the government facilities?" Dad asked. "Mr. Fuller is insistent that the licensed zoos are the best place for Jensen."

The dragon clicked in disagreement and the sound echoed in the nearly empty bowl.

Mr. Fuller leaned forward. "I've already explained–"

Dad raised his hand to stop the deputy director. "We've already heard your views, Mr. Fuller. I want to hear from Mr. Collins."

Everybody turned to look at the dark-haired, young man.

"Yes, Misha," Mr. Fuller sneered. "Tell them what you think of zoos."

"I think they should be abolished."

On the table, Jensen pulled out of his yoghurt and roared.


	4. Opposite Sides of The Table

  
T WAS A DRAMATIC ROAR FOR A CREATURE HIS SIZE, but Jensen was still barely three feet long—his lungs and his larynx just weren't big enough to produce much sound. The little dragon's display became much more impressive when Sadie and Harley joined in, howling at top volume.

"Huh," Dad huffed from behind him.

Jared tried to cover up what Jensen had just revealed. Nobody, especially Deputy Director Fuller, needed to know that Jensen understood what they were saying. He leaned forward and carefully wrapped his hands around the dragon, making sure not to crush his wings. "Did you like that, buddy? Are you feeling okay?" he crooned, as if to a puppy. "Your tummy is _huge_!"

"It was foolish to let him eat that," Mr. Fuller said. "This is why he needs professional management." He leaned forward, intense in his conviction that he was right. He obviously believed in what he was saying; that it was the right thing to do. However, he'd said "management", not "care," and that made a difference to Jared. To the deputy director, Jensen was an asset, an heirloom to be curated in some kind of museum, not a living creature with a personality.

"He just ate too much, is all," said Jared, trying to match Mr. Fuller's certainty. God, he hoped that was all. Jared lifted up the overstuffed dragon, intending to bring him back to the safety of his lap.

"Jared Tristan Padalecki! Don't bring that animal onto my good couch," his mama cried and Jared froze. "He's a _mess_. Oh my word, he's _covered_ with yoghurt," she said and Jared let out his breath. Mama picked up a napkin, licked it, and made Jared hold Jensen up while she wiped the dragon's face, neck and ruff.

"We could let Harley give him a lick or two," Dad said with lazy humor.

"Oh hush!" Mama scolded. "As if dog spit is any better than yoghurt."

Jensen went "chuff, chuff, chuff," but held still for her ministrations. Sadie and Harley had retaken their former positions, looking like temple dogs guarding a gate, but at least they'd stopped howling.

"So you think zoos should be abolished," Dad said, taking the attention off Jared and Mama. "Is that just for dragons, or for all animals?"

"All animals," Mr. Collins answered. "Starting with the ones who are in the most danger just by being in captivity – and that would be the dragons."

"Ridiculous. Zoos do good work," Mr. Fuller sputtered.

"Zoos are based on the idea that people like to gawk at the weird and the strange," Mr. Collins countered. "They were started as private menageries; used to show how far-reaching an individual's influence reached. The more exotic the animals a man owned, the wider his influence was seen to be. Then cities and countries took over the task of hunting down and imprisoning the weird and the wonderful, so their citizens could gawk and feel pride in how their empire touched every corner of the globe…" Mr. Collins' voice trailed off.

"You know, that's a very strange expression," he said. "A globe is, by definition, round, like the Earth, yet we say 'the four corners' as if we still believe the world is flat. Why is that?"

"I have no idea," Mr. Fuller said repressively. "And the question has absolutely no relevance to the issue at hand."

Jared kept half an ear on the discussion. He had a vague thought that it was nearly time to go to the zoo, but he was more worried that Mr. Fuller might have been right about the yoghurt. Jensen wasn't settling into his usual food coma. The dragon was curled up on his lap, and his eyes were closed, but Jared knew he wasn't sleeping. He stroked the dragon's back and chest, feeling Jensen's heart beating and the rising and falling of his chest. Jensen would be okay. He had to be; he had a job to do.

"Actually," Mr. Collins was saying, "it is relevant. It's an example of how we, as a species, get used to thinking along a certain path—in paradigms that may be limited but are comfortable. The individual paradigm doesn't have to be true—in fact it often isn't—but we don't think of it, don't examine and say 'why is it like this?'"

The deputy director rolled his eyes and steepled his fingers, clearly trying to be patient. "I'm sure you think you have a point?"

"It's like zoos," Jared interjected. "We take for granted the idea that they're helping to preserve nature, but are they really?"

"Excellent summary, young Padawan!" Mr. Collins gave him that small smile and Jared got lightheaded as his blood rushed from his head and headed south. Stupid hormones.

Mr. Collins talked on, oblivious. "In the case of dragons, zoos have been very detrimental."

"Hogwash!"

"For the past two hundred years, the known population of dragons has fallen steadily. It was nothing dramatic, no sudden epidemic, just each year more dragons died than were born–"

"How dare you!" Mr. Fuller jumped up, vibrating with outrage. Harley and Sadie mirrored his posture, standing up on all fours, teeth bared, growling. The agents standing against the wall behind the deputy director shifted into alert. "That's a national secret."

Mama snorted. "There was an article in the _National Geographic_ only a couple years ago about that very thing, so it can hardly be a secret. Besides," she added. "Most people can _count_."

"Indeed, my lady," Mr. Collins said to her with a smile. She shifted on the couch and Jared was horrified to realize that Mr. Collins was having the same effect on his _mother_ as he had on him.

"What Kurt is afraid I'll say is the dragons that _are_ born in captivity are often sick; their life expectancy is barely half of what it was fifty years ago, which was half of what it was two hundred years ago. Even worse, the latest juveniles all seem to be infertile, so if we continue the way we have been, in twenty years there will be no more American dragons, unless, of course, we turn poacher and hunt the few remaining wild ones down, wherever they may be."

"Misha," Mr. Fuller growled. He did a pretty good job, but Sadie's was better and she was more than willing to growl at Mr. Fuller. Mr. Fuller backed down.

Mr. Collins leaned forward in his seat, radiating intensity. "We need to change the way we think or we will lose them," he said. "Can we really afford to keep thinking inside the box, Kurt? Doomsayer groups are already taking this as a sign of the coming Apocalypse, right up there with Y2K and giant asteroids. If a radical option is all we have…" he ended suggestively.

"Freeing them is _not_ an option," Mr. Fuller responded. "There's no way we could protect them–"

"For hundreds of generations, dragons protected their home villages. If they were free, they wouldn't need us to protect them."

"Fantasy and foolishness," Mr. Fuller snapped. He took a deep breath, pulled his cuffs out, and smoothed his tie. He obviously wasn't going to listen to any more.

On his side of the coffee table Mr. Collins sighed. He sat back, looking sad. "Dragons were once our partners, not our mascots and not our pets. They should be again."

Jared looked down at where he was stroking the dragon he'd found. He felt guilty because he _had_ been thinking of Jensen as another pet—something for him to take care of, much like all the other animals in the house. After listening to Mr. Collins, he knew Jensen deserved so much more.

As if sensing his distress, Jensen opened his eyes and uncurled his body from around his plump belly. He crawled up Jared's chest, claws penetrating cloth but not once puncturing skin, until he rested in his usual spot right under Jared's ear. He chirruped, low and soft. Chirping and burping and having a whole conversation that Jared wanted to understand. Then he felt a tongue, rough like a cat's, run up under his ear.

"I want to go to the zoo in Kansas City," Jared said, before he'd even realized he'd spoken. The reaction from the room was a haze behind his shock. Hadn't he already decided that Jensen wasn't going into any zoo?

Beneath his ear, Jensen chirruped approvingly.

"Before I dismiss it out of hand, I want to see it. And not just the public areas," he continued. "I want to see the behind-the-scenes stuff. Talk to the staff. See inside the actual enclosure."

"Jared, honey. Are you sure that's wise?" Mama asked.

"I can't recommend it," Mr. Collins said at the same time Mr. Fuller said, "We'll make the arrangements immediately."

Jared's heart was pounding. His mouth was dry. He felt like he was going to throw up. What the _hell_ was he doing?

His father's hand, massive and strong, dropped on his unoccupied shoulder. "Are you sure, son?"

'No, absolutely not,' he wanted to say. What he did say was, "I think I have to."

Under his ear, Jensen cooed soothingly. Jared tried to believe it was the dragon forgiving him for even considering putting him in a cage. It was somewhat less disturbing than thinking Jen had taken over his brain.

"I want Mr. Collins there," Dad said into the bustle as the agents decided on travel order. Agent Whitfield nodded in silent acceptance of the condition.

"And I want a member of the press there," his mama stated. "From one of the more reputable outlets."

Mr. Fuller raised his hand. "Now wait a minute–"

"There will be no attempt to wrest Jensen away by force, or to coerce or blackmail my son into making his decision. Having the press there will help remind _both of you_ to behave yourselves," she said in her 'I'll brook no nonsense' voice. It had worked on countless classrooms filled with unruly children, on other teachers, and on her family. It worked on Mr. Fuller.

The front door burst open. Jared guessed who it was even before Megan's voice filled the front room. His sister was two years younger and half his height, but she had five times the energy. 'Irrepressible', had been used to describe her.

"Oh my _god,_ Jared!" His sister planted herself in front of him, hands on hips. "You big, fat _dork!_ Do you have any idea how _embarrassing_ it is to be hauled away from a slumber party by _federal agents_? I had a mud mask on, pedicure junk on my toes, and _egg whip stuff_ in my _hair_! They had to _wait_ while I cleaned up!"

She whirled around to the couch. "Hi, Mama," she said as leaned down to give their mother a kiss on the cheek.

"Um… well, you look really good?" Jared offered.

"Aww! You are _such_ a sweetie! I forgive you," she said with affection, giving him a pat. Then she skipped around the sofa to give Dad a hug (which always looked like those pictures of people hugging California Redwoods: huge tree—itty-bitty human). It was amazing to Jared the way she was bouncing around a room full of strangers, some with guns, and acting as if they were wallpaper.

"So where's the dragon?" she asked.

"How did you hear about that?" Mr. Fuller demanded. "You weren't supposed to be briefed." He glared at Agent Whitfield.

Megan rolled her eyes. "D- _uh_! It's _all_ _over_ the news. Miranda thought it was _awesome_ cool and made me _swear_ to tell her _everything_."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," the deputy director said.

"Hel- _lo!_ Already on every news station?" she reminded them. "And don't you think it would be _so_ much better if she got the deets from _me_ , rather than spreading random gossip on the bulletin boards? 'Cuz she _totally_ will, and so will all the _other girls_ at the slumber party!"

While Mega-Max was busy dressing down Mr. Fuller, Jared lifted Jensen from his perch around his neck. Jensen clicked in irritation, but didn't really seem to mind being disturbed.

"Oh my _god!_ He's so _pretty_!" Megan squealed.

Jensen's disapproving click was a bit louder this time.

"He doesn't like being called pretty," Jared explained.

"Well, then he should _look_ like the ones in the _zoos_! They're all brown and _blah_ , and stuff. _He_ looks _much_ closer to the ones in the stories."

Everybody very carefully didn't look at Deputy Director Fuller.

"Jared's going to take him to the zoo," Dad said.

Megan straightened, practically jumping in place. " _Seriously?_ He wants to put his _dragon_ in a _zoo_?"

"He wants to explore the possibility," Dad replied. "Did you remember your cell phone?" Megan was the only one other than Dad who had one, so that she was never forced to walk home after dark, or wait for her ride to show up when her dance lessons ended early, and she'd never be stuck in a situation that made her uncomfortable.

"Of course, Daddy," Megan answered, pulling the device out of her purse.

Jared wasn't sure how he felt about it. On the one hand, it was totally unfair that his _fourteen-year-old_ sister got a cell phone, but there was also a part of him that thought getting one of those tracking anklets for parolees was an even better idea.

He might have caught some of his father's over-protective genes along with his height, Jared acknowledged ruefully.

Dad took it and gave it to his wife. "I'll take Megan to my office." His deep voice reverberated in the room. "You program my number to speed dial and keep your finger ready. I don't expect anything to happen, but…"

Mama smiled at him as she took the phone. "Just in case." Dad nodded.

Megan was pouting. "I don't get to go to the zoo? After _everything_ I've been through?"

"No, baby girl. You get to come to the university with me, where there's people and security guards, and journalism majors, with their cameras and their notebooks and their sharp, young eyes." Megan's eyes lit up and Jared knew she was hoping that they'd be, A) male, B) cute, and C) that Dad would introduce them to her.

Whenever Jared wanted to moan about how his hormones were out of control, all he had to do was think of how Meggie's were firing out of control to feel better.

Once destinations were settled, it took a far shorter time than Jared expected to get everything organized. Dad and Megan would have some of Special Agent Whitfield's team with them in case more 'Spanish agents' showed up and tried to use them as hostages. Campus security had already been alerted, and were standing by to assist.

Mr. Collins offered the use of his VW van, but Agent Whitfield refused, saying it was "too noticeable".

"And a cavalcade of huge, black, SUVs isn't?"

"Our vehicles come equipped with bullet-proof glass, flat-resistant tires, impact-resistant sides, and shielded gas tanks. Does yours?" Agent Whitfield lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

"Mine has aluminum foil lining," Mr. Collins offered and the serious-to-death federal agent burst out laughing.

Jensen snuffed in irritation, and rolled over on Jared's lap. He'd finally gone to sleep and Jared couldn't help but think it was because the dragon had gotten what he wanted. It was stupid—it was, he knew that—but it didn't stop him from thinking it. Jensen was able to talk to the dogs and Olive and the turtles and Precious; he ordered Harley and Sadie around and _they obeyed._ Was it so ridiculous to think he was doing the same thing to the humans around him? _He'd_ certainly acted like the dragon was talking directly to him.

_Trust..._

He looked down at the dragon, twice as big as he had been when Jared first found him. He was snug and comfy lying in the seam of Jared's thighs, snoring his bullfrog croak. At some point, he'd wrapped his tail lightly around Jared's wrist, keeping his fingers in perfect position to scratch his cheek. Contentment radiated from the brilliantly colored creature, and it filled Jared with contentment, too. But was it _Jared's_ contentment? Or was Jensen projecting his emotions into Jared in some way?

Why the _hell_ was he going to the zoo?

Because he trusted Jensen. Even if the dragon _was_ taking over his brain, he'd rather trust Jensen than men like Mark Pellegrino or Deputy Director Fuller.

"We're going to leave some state troopers here to guard the house," Agent Whitfield said to Jared's parents. "We don't want anyone sneaking in, whether it's people with designs on Jensen or souvenir seekers."

"Oh," Mama said in surprise. "Is that likely?"

"Your son found a dragon," the agent answered. "Some people would go nuts for that—and I mean _nuts_. They'll come in and steal an egg cup and call it a treasure."

Jared peeked up at the trio. He hadn't thought of that—that people might vandalize their home.

"We've already set up a sensor net along the perimeter, and we aren't going to release the fact that the dragon is leaving the property–"

Mama laughed. "But there are helicopters in the air and news vans on the road, and Mr. Collins was right: it's hard to disguise a convoy of black security vehicles."

Agent Whitfield's lip quirked in appreciation. "Exactly."

"Well," she said. "In that case, Gerald and Megan will take the dogs. Harley especially will go crazy knowing y'all are in the yard. " Mama barely finished talking before she started organizing Dad and Megan to gather up leashes, food, and cleanup bags.

"We should bring snacks for Jensen, too, Mama," Jared called out. There was a sound of agreement from the kitchen.

In his lap, Jensen gave a coughing hiccup and rolled over onto his back, exposing his bright tummy still plump from Mr. Collins' offering. His wings were splayed out over Jared's legs and his feet were sticking up like a dead cartoon animal's.

"How is that dignified?" Jared asked him.

"You do know he can't understand you."

Jared hadn't heard Mr. Fuller come over. "Uh, pardon?" he said instead of anything sensible.

"Dragons," said Mr. Fuller. "I know the legends say that dragons can talk to humans, but they can't. At least," he added with a tight, little laugh, "I've never heard one say anything."

Hadn't the guy been watching? Hadn't he seen how the dogs and Mr. Collins had listened to Jensen?

Jared wasn't going to tell the deputy director his suspicions that Jensen was ordering them about. There was no way that would be a good idea. "Maybe we just don't hear them," he offered instead. "Or maybe they're like dolphins, and we don't understand them."

Mr. Fuller paused and Jared could see the man struggle to control his sneer. "You tell yourself that," he said. Then he walked away, and Jared relaxed as much as he could while being a pillow for a squirmy dragon with pointy bits.

He looked down at Jensen. Jensen was looking up at him.

"Are you going to prove him wrong, Jen?" Jared asked. "Are you going to open your mouth and say 'Howdy'?"

He waited.

He sighed. "Didn't think so."

His family returned from the kitchen and the upstairs pet room. Mama had her "gunny sack"–a huge, amorphous bag made of untreated leather. It was the bag she took to beaches, picnics, and football games, to hold all the things she didn't want in her purse. Jared couldn't remember a time when she didn't have it. It would probably survive the Apocalypse.

Finally, she announced, "We're ready to go."

"We should let the dogs do their business in the yard before we head out," Dad suggested. Jensen sat up and chirped.

"You need to go?" Jared asked him. The sound Jensen made seemed like an affirmative, so Jared scooped up the dragon and stood. "Jensen needs to go outside, too, so we'll go with y'all."

All of a sudden it was a production. Special Agent Whitfield got on his radio and called in more agents to ring the back yard. He made arrangements to have the SUVs move around to the back so they could depart directly from there. Deputy Director Fuller objected strenuously at allowing Jensen out without having some kind of leash on him. And Harley decided that barking would help sort everything out.

Mama huffed at the fuss and bristled when Mr. Fuller started haranguing everyone, but Dad ran a light hand down her back and she calmed almost instantly. Watching them, it occurred to Jared that it wasn't only dragons who had magic—his daddy seemed to have The Touch, as well.

As sweet as that realization was, they needed to get going, which they couldn't do as long as the deputy director was having a hissy fit in their kitchen.

First things first: "Harley, quiet!" Jared ordered. Harley looked at him; Jared looked back, trying to put some command into it, willing Jensen not to do anything because Harley had to learn to obey _him_. To his relief, it worked. Harley stopped barking, and started panting and drooling instead. Jared hoped his mama would see it as an improvement.

"Deputy Director," Jared said next, initiating conversation with the bureaucrat for the first time. "I'm not putting a leash on Jensen. Even if we had one that would fit over his wings, I wouldn't do it."

The deputy director sputtered and glared. Jensen licked under his ear and cooed.

"Can we go now?" Jared asked Special Agent Whitfield.

The agent held up one finger as he listened to his radio crackling. After a terse radio exchange, he opened the door, and nodded briskly. Harley raced out as if there was a rabbit waiting for him on the other side of the door. Sadie loped after him, head down. If there were any rabbits in the yard, she wouldn't just chase them—she would catch them and eat them.

Dad and Megan were next; Dad walked and Mega-Max skipped, asking their father if she looked good enough to be seen on TV, chattering about what she would say when asked for quotes. Dad just nodded and hummed and let her chatter on the way the all did when Megan was excited.

Jared stood at the door and took a breath. If Jensen flew away…

_Trust…_

Jensen chirped and Jared knew the dragon was reassuring him.

"Ready, hon?" Mama asked and put a gentle hand on his arm.

"This is a stupid idea," Mr. Fuller muttered, and it was enough to propel Jared outside.

Nothing happened.

Jensen didn't streak away like a lightning bolt. No helicopters swooped down and unloaded a black-clothed strike team. There was only the breeze ruffling the leaves of the wind-break—and Harley barking at a butterfly.

"You should carry him far away from the house," Deputy Director Fuller said from the shadows. "Dragon shit is a bit pungent."

"Mr. Fuller. Language!" Mama said. "Honestly, you'd think an educated man like yourself would know better." Mr. Fuller smiled tightly, but didn't contradict her. Hardly anybody ever did.

"He does have a point, though, my lady. The excreta from dragons can be… rather pungent," Mr. Collins said.

Jensen burped in disdain, and scrambled up to Jared's shoulder, chittering excitedly. He launched himself into the air, pumping his wings, which still seemed too small for his body, and soared over the barely green grass.

Harley, catching sight of the flying dragon, abandoned the butterfly and took after Jensen instead. Jensen, to everyone's amazement, winged to a stop and hovered—honest-to-god _hovered—_ hummingbird-style over the big dog, shifting first one way then back, driving Harley into a happy frenzy. Even Sadie came over to play. Then the dragon shot off to the far corner of the yard almost too fast to see. Harley and Sadie gave chase.

"Dragons can't fly, huh," Dad muttered loud enough for Mr. Fuller to hear.

Just when the agents on that side of the yard started shifting nervously, probably thinking the dragon was trying to escape, Jen shot straight up in the air, spiraling like a plane in an airshow. Harley jumped and barked, and jumped some more trying to reach his play pal. Sadie sat down and watched.

At nearly tree height, his green coloring barely visible against the leaves, Jensen paused. Then he dropped, curled around himself, and plummeted. If he'd flown fast before, now he was going faster. He swooped at an angle. They could hear his wings beating but they were moving too fast to see.

And he was coming straight for Jared.

"Jen?" he asked, but the dragon didn't stop, just kept coming.

Jared decided ducking was the better part of valor, so he dropped. It was the only reason the bullet hit the wall behind him, and not his head.

The crack of the gunshot followed shortly after but the agents were already hustling them into the vehicles. It's why the second bullet missed.

Someone was trying to kill him.

He didn't have time to think of that, not right now. Not when there were agents on either side of him, pushing his head down, and making him run blind down the path. Not when his family was shouting and the dogs were barking and he didn't know if anyone had been hurt and the agents wouldn't answer his questions and he couldn't see.

The cars were starting, big engines roaring. One of them took off—Jared recognized the sound of gravel being spit from under spinning tires. The air filled with dust making it even harder for him to see from his hunched position. There was the sound of another shot, which meant the bullet had already reached them. Nobody was screaming, but dead people didn't and trained agents wouldn't, and _he couldn't see._

Megan was chanting a continuous stream of "ohmygodohmygod", so he knew she was okay.

"Mama? Daddy?" he yelled, pushing back against the hands urging him forward. He felt the brush of a wing against his hair, and knew that Jensen was flying with him. The dragon was chittering at him, ordering him to _movemovemove_.

He _was_ moving, but he still had to know. "Mama! Dad! Meggie?"

"We're okay, JT," his dad shouted back, using the nickname Jared had rejected once he hit middle school.

"We're fine," Mama echoed from somewhere behind him.

He didn't have a chance to process it because the agents were pushing him into the back of an SUV, forcing him to climb or fall. Wingtips brushed past him and he knew Jensen was in and safe. The dragon was still making noises, encouraging him, so Jared crawled-duck walked-moved to the front of the vehicle to make room for the rest.

When he saw his mama crawl in after him, he didn't hesitate. He scooped her up and hugged her as tight as he could.

"You okay, baby?" she asked, voice thin. "You're not hurt? Please tell me you're not hurt?" She was trembling. Jared could feel it in the arms he had wrapped around her, could hear it in her voice.

"I'm okay, Mama," he answered. "I'm okay. I was so scared." He knew he sounded about six, but he didn't care. Somebody had tried to kill them—to kill _him_.

Mama made little shushing sounds, and they rocked each other until they'd both calmed down. It took a while. He heard but ignored other people entering their vehicle. When they took off, he didn't care that he wasn't actually in his seat or wearing his seatbelt. All that mattered was that his mama was here and safe, and Daddy and Megan…

"What about Daddy and Meggie?" he blurted in a panic. What about Harley and Sadie?

He held his breath, held his mama, and waited, waited. He could feel his mama's arms tremble. He could hear her breath, shallow and shaky. He could feel Jensen on his shoulder, could hear him cooing softly, adding his own soothing noises to help drown out his racing fears.

Agent Whitfield's calm voice announcing "all clear; no injuries" was the most welcome thing he'd heard. They were all safe, and that's when he started to shake.

Eventually, Mama moved to sit in her own seat beside him, dabbing carefully at her eyes. Jared wiped his with a sleeve. He looked around the vehicle and tried not to be embarrassed when he saw the deputy director and Mr. Collins looking at him. There was a slight sneer on Mr. Fuller's face, but that seemed to be his default expression, so Jared tried not to take it personally. Mr. Collins' gaze was far kinder.

Jensen licked at Jared's tears, his little tongue scratchy against his cheek. It felt weird, but it made him smile.

The back of the SUV wasn't laid out the way normal ones were. The only doors were the ones in the rear that they'd come in through. It meant that, instead of rows of seats lined up one behind each other, the seats were against the sides of the vehicle, so the passengers faced each other. Jared and his mama were directly behind the driver, with an unknown agent by the door. Across from them sat Agent Whitfield, Mr. Collins and Mr. Fuller.

"Mr. Collins," Mama said. "You're alright?"

"I'm fine, and please, call me 'Misha,'" Mr. Collins replied. "You've seen me terrified so it's a little late to be formal."

"Misha," Mama confirmed. Jared knew if he looked, she'd be blushing, so he didn't.

She acknowledged the deputy director with a terse, "Mr. Fuller." Then she pulled herself up, folded her hands neatly in her lap, and said, "Agent Whitfield, why was someone shooting at my son?" She didn't say anything about not giving her any bullshit, but she didn't need to.

"We're not sure, and we won't be sure until we catch the person who did it," the agent answered firmly.

"Is that likely?" Jared asked, because the shooter could've been half a mile away with a decent rifle.

Agent Whitfield tipped his head in an almost nod. "We had agents stationed further out. They're in pursuit now."

Mama nodded, accepting his assurances. "Any guesses?" she demanded.

"Foreign governments, private collectors, activists or extremists… crazy people," Agent Whitfield replied. "As I said: we won't know until we catch the shooter."

"This is why dragons shouldn't be in private hands," said Mr. Fuller. "By taking one into your house, you put everyone and everything around you at risk. Do you realize what could have happened out there? You nearly had your _head shot off._ "

"Mister Fuller!" Mama objected.

"He saved my life," Jared said unthinking. Jensen chirped and preened.

"How _dare_ you try to use this incident to try and force my son's decision!"

"Mrs. Padalecki—Sharon—be reasonable," the deputy director began.

"I will not let you, or anyone else, bully my son," Mama said, and the glare she directed at the older man should've melted him like butter in the Texas desert. "Not with words, or blackmail, or _guns_. We are from Texas, Mr. Fuller. When someone threatens us we don't run, we dig in and fight."

"And die," Mr. Fuller said with a smarmy smile. "'Remember the Alamo' and all that."

Mama wasn't a big person. In fact, she was pretty average-sized (and therefore tiny next to the Padalecki males) but when she was mad her presence expanded to fill all available space, and Mr. Fuller had made her very, very mad. It felt like she was compressing the air in the vehicle with the power of her outrage.

"Mister Fuller," she said. "I consider myself a peaceful, Christian woman, but if you don't hush up, I am going to smack you."

Jared couldn't help but smile. Jensen was chuffing happily and butting his nose into Jared's cheek. Everyone else was hiding their smiles behind hands or by ducking their heads.

Mr. Fuller appeared, foolishly, to be about to try to stare her down, but Jensen suddenly fluttered his wings. Mr. Fuller's eyes twitched over to watch. Reminded of what was at stake, the deputy director huffed, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked pointedly away.

Silence, thick and heavy, filled the vehicle.

"Oo-kay then," Mr. Collins leaned forward. "Does anyone want to know why Europeans started putting dragons in zoos?"

"Not really," the deputy director sneered in a voice low enough they could pretend he hadn't said anything.

"I'm interested," Jared offered, because it was better than watching his mama kill Mr. Fuller. Or thinking about nearly being shot.

"You know the basic history of dragons and the Catholic Church, young Padawan?" Mr. Collins asked. Jared shook his head no, and he continued. "Very well, I will explain."

"This should be entertaining," Mr. Fuller mocked. They continued to ignore him.

"The cultures of the Middle East have never been comfortable with dragons. Dragons' powers—their demonstrable powers—rivaled that of the god-kings of the time, yet they were completely neutral in the wars of man. They didn't defend whole countries—just their little parts of it. And since they didn't declare loyalties, they were not to be trusted."

"They've found the sniper's blind," Agent Whitfield announced. "That's the location the sniper set up in to take the shot."

"I'm aware of what a blind is, Agent Whitfield," Mama said. "Did they find the sniper?"

"Not yet."

They waited a moment, but when he said nothing more his silence was easily translated: considering how long it had been since the shooting, they probably wouldn't ever find the sniper.

Mr. Collins leaned over and patted Mama's hand. "Don't fret so, m'lady. The Diplomatic Security Service has many resources. They will determine where this person came from."

"This one, but what about the next one?" she replied bleakly. Jared took her hand, trying to offer comfort. She clasped it tightly and gave herself a shake. "Please go on with your story, Misha. It's very interesting."

Jared thought Mr. Collins knew she only wanted the distraction, but he still shrugged and did as requested.

"Because of their perceived neutrality, dragons weren't welcomed by most of the early kingdoms in the Middle East. Not only wouldn't they fight, but they took resources that the leaders felt could be better used to support their army, or to make them rich. The early religions didn't like them much either. They were living, breathing rivals for whatever absent god the priests wanted to have worshiped in their place."

"You don't know that," said the deputy director. "Not for sure."

"All the writings that have been recovered from the area support these assumptions. Distrust and resentment of dragons permeates both the political and religious writings from the time, including the early Jewish Torah, which as the basis of the Old Testament, was the precursor to the Christian religion. This suspicion was strong enough that, in _Genesis_ , it's a dragon that's the agent of the Devil, and tempts Eve into eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge."

"It was a _wyrm_ ," Mama said over Jensen's odd coughing laugh. "That's more like a snake than a dragon."

"In the earliest texts, it was identified as a _saraph_ , a six-winged dragon. It's not until Gutenberg's Bible that _wyrm_ was commonly substituted for dragon," Mr. Collins corrected. "Back to the beginning, though. Another reason Jews didn't like dragons was that Egyptians revered them. They weren't just _royal_ animals, but godly, one step below the Pharaoh and one step above cats."

"In _Exodus_ , there are stories of Jews being given to dragons to eat," Mama commented.

Jensen made his mocking burp sound.

"There are stories, because that's what they were told," Mr. Collins argued. "' _Behave, Jewish slaves, or we'll feed you to the dragons_.' Hardly the thing to cause goodwill among the Jews. However, there's no proof the dragons _did_ eat them. It was merely assumed because the dragons flew away with them. However, when Jesuit missionaries reached the Blue Nile in the 1600s, they were surprised to find a small but thriving community of Jews living along its banks. That's actually a fascinating story in its own right–"

"How do dragons rescuing Jews in ancient Egypt end with modern zoos?" Jared interrupted. He recognized a born teacher going into off-topic lecture-mode.

The SUV slowed and Jared braced himself as they turned. It was a smoother surface, which meant they'd reached the highway. He looked out the back window and watched the three SUVs containing the rest of his family follow them before Mr. Collins' story sucked his attention back inside.

"–Christian Apostles all came from religions saturated with the beliefs of the region. When they took it to southern Europe, they took the area's mistrust of dragons with them." Mr. Collins paused, coughing to clear his throat. He dug into his backpack to pull out several bottles of water.

He offered one to Jared, and Jared accepted gratefully. The SUV might be a big vehicle, but there were seven people in it and it was getting a little stuffy. Jensen chirped so Jared poured some in the cap for him.

"Go on," Mama said as she accepted a bottle.

Mr. Collins capped his water after taking a long drink. "When they arrived, they discovered that the Romans and Greeks looked on dragons as wild beasts, no different from lions or bears, so when they converted, they had no problem believing dragons were the bad guys, or at least agents of the Devil. The problem came when the Church started moving into northern Europe, which had a totally different view of dragons."

The agent interrupted. "Your husband and daughter's vehicles should be turning off... now."

Jared looked out the back windows, black from the outside but with barely a hint of grey when viewed from the inside. The SUV directly behind them stayed with them, but the vehicles behind that one took the exit to the left, leaving the highway to head into Lawrence. Their grill lights flashed.

His dad and sister were in one of those vehicles. They'd looked huge before, but now they looked far too small.

On his shoulder, Jensen purred soothingly. His mama patted his knee. "They'll be alright, honey."

Jared hoped she was right, but historically, gunmen liked college campuses, and the agents couldn't be everywhere, couldn't search everywhere…

"What happened when they went into northern Europe?" he asked to distract himself.

"They had a problem," Mr. Collins said. "In northern Europe, dragons were worshiped, not as gods, but as the next closest thing. They were good omens, signs of prosperity and stability. They brought luck and fertility to both people and land. If a village or a settlement had a dragon nearby, they knew they were blessed," he explained. "Christians tried to preach that dragons were evil; that harboring a dragon was like saying 'yes' to the Devil."

Jensen made his derisive burping noise. Jared poured him more water.

Mr. Collins nodded in agreement. "Exactly how the northern Europeans reacted."

"Oh puh-lease." The deputy director rolled his eyes. "Does this thing have a bar? I could use a drink."

"No alcohol on board secure transport."

"Uh, well," said Mr. Fuller, caught flat-footed by Agent Whitfield's literal response.

"Is there coffee?" Jared asked. He didn't actually want coffee, but it sounded like a really good idea, anyway. In fact, he could practically taste it… He jiggled the shoulder Jensen was perched on. Jensen blew a disappointed raspberry at him, and he felt like a spoilsport.

"We forgot the thermos," Agent Whitfield said dryly. Jared ignored Jensen's unhappy chirruping.

Mr. Collins leaned forward, basically cutting his former boss out of the conversation. "Anyway," he said. "For Christianity to get anywhere, they had to drop the hardline anti-dragon attitude, which they did."

Jensen crawled down Jared's shoulder until he could hop onto his lap. From there the dragon climbed onto the armrest and chirped at Jared's mama. She glanced at him, and he gave a hopeful little trill, tongue flicking out and over his face. Mama obviously understood dragon because she opened her big, leather bag and pulled out the container of snacks she'd prepared. She opened it and handed it to Jared. "You feed him, hon. I don't want juice on my pants."

Jensen followed the container like he was on a string.

Mr. Collins watched all of it, but kept talking. "They gave up trying to convince the northerners to kill dragons, but managed to persuade them that dragons were to be shunned, or at least not encouraged, and certainly not treated as some sort of partner in existence. They were beneath God and his Son, not equal, creatures under His dominion blah, blah, blah." He made a rolling gesture with his hand. "Fast-forward a thousand years: Europe is now entering the Age of Reason, and the known world is becoming very… civilized. Everything and everyone is being catalogued and boxed in–"

"Except dragons," Jared said. He watched as Jensen stuck his head into the container and plucked out a piece of farmer's sausage with one carefully extended claw. His body was as long as Jared's thigh now.

"Except dragons," Mr. Collins agreed. "Dragons are the anomaly. They symbolize a world of magic, which shouldn't exist, so the rational mind is uncomfortable with them. They are barely tolerated by the Church, so the spiritual mind distrusts them. Yet, they still symbolize fertility and wealth, so leaders can't get rid of them. Enter Henry VIII, and his mad quest for a male heir."

"Henry VIII?" Jared could sort of remember his history textbooks mentioning Henry VIII and dragons.

"I've heard this one before. It's a good one," Deputy Director Fuller mocked.

"They've reached the university," Agent Whitfield said without looking at them. "I'll let you know when they've reached your husband's office."

"Thank you, Agent Whitfield," Mama said. "Were they followed, or-or anything?"

He finally looked up, eyes flashing against his dark skin. "No, ma'am. Everything looks clear."

Mr. Fuller leaned back into the conversation. "You see, Mrs. Padalecki. We take our responsibilities seriously. You _can_ trust us to do what's best."

"Thank you again, Agent Whitfield," she said. "Mr. Fuller; as I said before, do yourself a favor, and don't miss a good chance to shut up. Go on, Misha. Explain how Henry VIII fits into your story."

"It was another one of his great ideas, like 'divorce with extreme prejudice,'" Mr. Collins said.

Mama snickered, "That's a good way of describing it."

"I used to hang around people in the intelligence community," he replied. "It had an interesting effect on my vocabulary."

"Too bad it didn't have an 'interesting effect' on your wardrobe," Agent Whitfield put in. "You still dress like a bankrupt tax accountant."

"Brains are more important than beauty," Mr. Collins refuted in mocking tones.

"Then it's too bad you don't have either," was Agent Whitfield's equally mocking reply.

"Enough with the nostalgic jocularity," Deputy Director Fuller said. "If you two want to catch up on old times, do it after the job is done and the dragon is safe." His 'safe in the hands of the government' was unsaid, but also easy to hear.

Agent Whitfield didn't roll his eyes or stick out his tongue, but the look he gave his former colleague was expressive. Mr. Collins gave a small smile in return. "For once Kurt is right: this isn't the time. Where was I?"

"Henry the Eighth and 'divorce with extreme prejudice'," Jared supplied.

"Ah, yes." Mr. Collins nodded. "As we all know, Henry was obsessed with having a son, and dragons represented fertility, so he got it stuck in his syphilitic brain that the more dragons he surrounded himself with, the better chance he had to have a son—or for his wives to not be barren because everyone knew it wasn't _his_ fault his wives weren't birthing like rabbits."

"Why didn't he just announce that he owned them?" Jared asked. "He was king, right? He could do that." Jared poured some water into the empty food container. Jensen buried his snout in it. Jared swore he heard the dragon whining for coffee.

"He couldn't," Mr. Collins answered, jerking Jared away from what Jensen was or wasn't doing to his brain. "Henry was in the midst of divorcing his fourth wife, which even his own church was having trouble with, and since the Anglican Church was Catholic in everything but who was top dog, it had the Catholic mistrust of dragons. Plus, a lot of his nobles were still Catholic, and they were in on-and-off again rebellion. If he proclaimed that dragons belonged to him, he'd have had civil war, with him on one side and followers of _both_ churches on the other."

"Oh. So what did he do?" Jared asked, as he watched Jensen gulp and swallow and lick the container dry.

"What he did do is hint—not very subtly—that Catholic peers or churches that wanted to keep their titles and lands would be well advised to 'gift' dragons to the crown."

"I bet they jumped all over that," Mama said.

"They did indeed," Mr. Collins said with a small smile. "And once the English were doing it, the French and the Scots had to do it, too. The Dutch and the Hapsburgs followed, then all the Italian and Germanic states, until it became accepted that dragons belonged to the crown.

"So there was no law passed?" Jared asked. "Katie's fiancé, the one who tried to blackmail me? He said that governments didn't have a legal claim on the dragons. No eminent domain or anything like that." He gave his mama the empty container so that Jensen could make himself comfortable on his lap. The dragon didn't quite fill it, but it was getting to be a close thing.

"He was correct," Mr. Collins confirmed. "In fact, if anything, dragons should fall under the _International Accord on the Protection of Endangered Species_ of 1974, which is supposed to foster and promote life in the wild for all threatened species. It's habit and pride that keep dragons—and all the other animals—in zoos."

"It's not just a matter of 'habit and pride.' Don't be so naïve," Mr. Fuller broke in. "Where would they go? There's barely any wild land left in America. Do you honestly think some farmer or rancher is going to want to share space with a creature that, _if_ the stories _are_ true, demands whole cows in tribute? Then there'll be the dragon hunters and gawkers, tromping all over their land, disturbing their crops and their herds."

"There's lots of land they could roost in," Mr. Collins said, staring at his former boss intently. "But the idea of sharing it has corporate agriculture—yes, I do know who has been paying the lobbyists in Washington—in a panic. Rather than even consider the possibility, they'd let the dragons die."

"Stop being melodramatic, Collins," the deputy director shot back. "Even if we do release them—and that's a big 'if'—there is no way all their problems will be fixed. There is no God. There will be no miracles. The sooner you realize that the better it will be… for all of us."

"This isn't about miracles, Kurt," Mr. Collins responded, voice rising slightly. "There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it."

"Gentlemen!" Agent Whitfield, interrupted. "This is not the place for your old, stale arguments. We are taking Jared and the dragon to the zoo. Then he will make his decision. I doubt anything _you_ say here will affect that outcome."

They did shut up, mostly. But Mr. Fuller would comment and Mr. Collins could never ignore it. At least they kept their voices down to a polite decibel level. Jared, who'd been starting to doze during Mr. Collins' lecture, felt the rhythm of the vehicle pulling him into unconsciousness. Jensen's purring croak added another sound to the impromptu lullaby.

Jared's last thought before his brain shut down was that Agent Whitfield's statement had been scarily accurate. Jared's decision would probably have very little to do with words spoken by anyone in the vehicle with him. Actually, he thought, Jensen probably already knew what he wanted and it was _Jared_ who was along for the ride.


	5. Zoom Zoom Boom!

  
  
ARED WASN'T THE ONLY ONE DOZING BY THE TIME THEY REACHED KANSAS CITY. It had been a stressful day, with too much stuff happening that really, truly belonged in movies or other people's lives.

_Adventure. Heh. Excitement. Heh. A Jedi craves not these things._

Jared was pretty sure he'd make a kick-ass Jedi.

"Fifteen minutes," Agent Whitfield announced.

Jared opened his eyes, wiping the sticky bits out of the corners. His mama had a book open, and her little half-moon reading glasses that none of them were ever supposed to mention. _Ever_.

On the other side of the SUV, Mr. Collins seemed to be meditating—or maybe he was listening to the signals let in by having no aluminum foil lining the vehicle. Mr. Fuller was sitting with arms crossed, frowning at nothing—or maybe frowning at everything.

Through the front window he saw the lead vehicle, a few trees, a few signs, and a whole blue sky. The back window was more of the same. Kansas City Zoo. Two hundred some-odd acres in the middle of the city.

They passed the public parking lot and Jared was surprised to see it full to overflowing. People were lined up waiting to get into the zoo, but a lot of them were standing along the road, pushing up against a line of uniformed cops. Some were waving and jumping; some were carrying signs and chanting. Jared read some as they passed. There were a lot saying "Kansas City s Dragons!" of course, but there was also "Feed People, Not Dragons" and "Dragons Should Be Free".

"Those people are here because of Jensen," Jared said, stunned. "How did they–"

"Almost all the news stations have been following us," Agent Whitfield said. "Once we turned onto K-10, they had a pretty good idea where we were going, and they've been updating the reports in five minute rotations."

"Will it be safe?" Mama asked, and Jared heard the echo of gunshots across their backyard.

"We'll be sticking to employee areas for the most part," he replied. "So it'll be easier to control the crowd."

As if to prove Agent Whitfield right, the cavalcade slowed down while the gate into the back areas slowly opened. The service road was lined with doubled-up twelve-foot-high fencing topped with razor wire. There were bushes and shrubs and other green stuff on the other side of the fence, hiding the prison-security-type enclosure.

Jared's heart started thumping. "Why…" Jared pointed at it.

Deputy Director Fuller leaned forward. "We take the security of America's dragons _very_ seriously. He'll be safe here—trust me."

Mr. Collins snorted. "Never trust a person who says 'trust me.'"

Jensen had climbed up to his accustomed perch. He was chirping quickly, excitedly. Maybe Jared's excitement wasn't actually his. Maybe it was Jensen's.

Jared ran soothing fingers over the dragon's cheek. "It'll be okay, Jensen," he said. "It'll be good. You'll see." Jensen stretched his neck, accepting the caress, and they both seemed to feel better for it.

"Are you ready for this, Jared?" his mother asked.

No. Maybe. Did he have a choice? "I'm good, Mama."

She gave his leg a couple brisk pats, accepting his mostly false assertion. Agent Whitfield "suggested" Mama leave behind her big, brown bag. Mama looked at him. He didn't flinch and (to Jared's awed amazement) she actually agreed to leave the thing in the SUV.

Jared _so_ wanted to be Special Agent Whitfield when he grew up.

They drove into the loading bay and the vehicle stopped. Agents poured out of the SUVs in front of and behind them, but the doors of Jared's vehicle didn't open.

"Wait 'til we get the all clear," said the anonymous and mostly silent agent nearest the door. They waited and waited. Then Agent Whitfield nodded and the doors opened from the outside. Anonymous Agent climbed out, then Mr. Collins and Mr. Fuller. Mr. Collins had no trouble, but the deputy director was a big guy, and he clipped his head on the door frame. It looked, and sounded, painful.

Jared's mama went next, with Mr. Collins lending her a steadying hand so she could step out gracefully. Jared, with Jensen, stepped out after her. Jared made sure to crouch as much as he needed in order to not hurt himself. Special Agent Whitfield followed, eyes searching the large space.

Once out of the SUV, Jensen planted his front paws on Jared's head and stretched himself out, fluttering his wings and making excited noises.

This was it, Jared thought. He was doing this— _they_ were doing this.

He frowned. It was a tour of a freaking _zoo_ not infiltrating an enemy base.

And Jensen was getting heavy.

"Oh, wow," said a nervous voice. "That's definitely a dragon; I thought they were joking."

Deputy Director Fuller stepped forward, arm out as it to sweep them up with him. "Mrs. Padalecki—Sharon—and Jared; let me introduce you," he said. "This is Rob Benedict of the Associated Press. His work has been featured in _Time-Life_ , _Newsweek_ , _National Geographic_ , and various other magazines and newspapers around the world. He's an award-winning photo-journalist who was recently nominated for a Pulitzer for his work in the Congo, covering the outbreak of the war there. I think he meets your criteria."

Jared looked at the slim, bearded man standing with his hands tucked into his armpits, three cameras of various sizes hanging from a neck that looked too skinny to hold them, and his first thought was that he'd never before met a man who could make Megan look big.

"Mr. Benedict," said his mama, holding her hand out to be shaken.

The reporter jumped. "Rob. Call me 'Rob.'" He stared at her hand before untucking his own from under his arm and taking hers. "I'm a reporter."

"Very well then, Rob. Call me Sherri. This is my son, Jared."

The reporter turned to Jared, hand still out. "Call me Rob. Everybody does," he said. The guy was twitching as he looked over Jared's shoulder, then down to the ground.

"Rob," Jared acknowledged. Jensen had climbed down from his head to stare at the newcomer. He chirped softly as Jared shook his hand. There was something sad in the sound. Jared wondered what Jensen was picking up from the guy—nothing evil, he'd bet.

"I'm gonna take pictures now, okay? I feel better with a camera in my hand," he said, and he was fondling his cameras as if they grounded him.

"Sure," Jared agreed. "It's why you're here."

While they'd been introduced to Rob the Reporter, two other people had walked up: a man and a woman, both wearing official zoo ID. Again, Deputy Director Fuller made the introductions. Rob had his camera up, and it whirred as he took shot after shot of "the historic moment."

The zoo director, Dr. Samantha Ferris was a no-nonsense white woman of maybe middle age, with light-brown hair and soft brown eyes. Jensen chirruped when Jared shook her hand, but in a bored, "just making noises" way. The black guy turned out to be the vet in charge of the dragons.

"Oh, yes," Dr. Demore Barnes purred in a voice deep and fluid. "We can certainly make room for this beauty." Dr. Barnes stared at Jared out of dark eyes and the expression in them was that Jared was pond scum for deigning to touch a dragon, let alone feed and name one.

"Um," Jared straightened to his full height as Jensen snarled and lifted his ruff. "That's not certain yet." And getting less likely by the moment, he thought. Jared was an easy-going guy, most of the time, but he wouldn't have trusted a _flea_ to Dr. Barnes. And Jensen didn't like him much either.

"He does not belong with you."

"And you have a better claim?" Mr. Collins said.

Dr. Barnes turned his stare on the former bureaucrat. "Anybody would."

Jared was pretty sure the desire to rip the guy's throat out wasn't coming from him. He tried to send reassuring thoughts to Jensen. Jensen hissed and clicked, but his ruff settled on his neck.

"You can't take him," Mr. Collins said, taking a step forward.

Dr. Barnes didn't back up. "You forget, Collins. We're the U.S. Government. Whatever we want, we get." He smirked.

Mr. Collins' face filled with frustrated anger. "Not this time."

It was Dr. Ferris who stepped between the two men, hands on chests to push them apart. "Enough of the playground behavior. We're adults here. Act like it." The men did back down, but their faces didn't change. They glared at each other like two bulls sharing a pasture. Jared looked between them and decided to keep someone between him and them, just in case they decided to charge each other.

"Can we go to the dragon pen now?" he asked. Anything to get out of here.

"It's called an enclosure," Dr. Barnes corrected him sharply.

"It's a small space with bars and walls and no escape," Mr. Collins countered. "You should call it what it is: a prison."

"Gentlemen." Dr. Ferris' voice was cold; cold enough to stop the former colleagues from speaking, if not cold enough to stop them from glaring at each other. "Special Agent Whitfield, are we cleared to leave?"

"We are," Agent Whitfield answered with a nod, and he and his men started walking. Since the agents surrounded the civilians, the civilians were forced to move or get run over.

Jensen chuffed out his enjoyment of the tactic. "Yeah, you would like that, wouldn't you," Jared said. "He's just as bossy as you are."

Jensen didn't deny it.

Since he needed information that he couldn't actually get from the dragon, Jared looked around the group. Agent Whitfield was busy and his "do not distract me" vibe was as heavy as the anger between Mr. Collins and Dr. Barnes. Those two were completely failing to pretend each other didn't exist, and Jared knew if he stepped close to one or the other, he'd be pounced on—probably with unpleasant results, so… not going there. No way was he getting close to Mr. Fuller, and his mother and Dr. Ferris were chatting intently. Starting a new friendship, if Jared knew his mama. That left…

"So you were sent here?" Jared asked Rob the Reporter.

"I was actually on my way home, to Columbia," he answered, not even lowering his camera. "Just got back from Kosovo. Taking a little break. They thought it would be good for me."

Mama broke off her conversation with Dr. Ferris. "You were in Kosovo, Mr. – I mean, Rob?" She asked. Rob nodded. "Is that why you were nominated for a Pulitzer?"

He lowered the camera, fiddling with the controls. "No. I was nominated for the stuff I did in the Congo. I'm glad I didn't win," he said. "I'm not supposed to say that, but I am."

"Oh?" Jared asked.

"Didier Kayembe, was my guide, my f-friend. He was standing right beside me when the rockets landed? He blew up. I found bits of him in my hair."

"Oh," Jared repeated faintly. Jensen chirruped softly.

"I'm glad I didn't win."

Nobody said anything to that (what could they say?) so Rob lifted his camera back up and took more pictures. "How did you get a dragon?" he asked and Jared latched on to the topic with the relief of a drowning man tossed a rope.

There were zoo staff members lining the corridors, peeking out of doorways, and Jared could hear them murmuring about Jensen. Some of the comments were just "oh, pretty," but there were other, more serious, discussions springing up in their wake that Jared wouldn't have minded eavesdropping on: things about feeding and biology and parasites and coloring. Snippets of conversation that made questions spring into his mind.

He thought of asking the expert, but when he looked at Dr. Barnes the words shriveled in his throat. As impossible as it seemed, the vet's attitude was worse than Deputy Director Fuller's. Mama was talking to Mr. Collins and they seemed intent on their discussion, so he didn't want to interrupt. Jared turned to Dr. Ferris. She was nice. "How many people do you have working with the dragons?" he asked her.

"Since the redesign of the dragon program, and the update to their enclosures, all zoos with dragons have been assigned one dedicated vet, and two specialized zookeepers," she answered. "And, of course, they can pull people from our regular zookeeper staff as needed."

"Dr. Barnes has been thoroughly screened and certified by the State Department," Deputy Director Fuller assured them. "He is up-to-date on the latest theories and practices. I can assure you; he—and the State Department—have only the dragons' best interests at heart."

Jared took another look at the intimidating veterinarian. He looked like he had no interest in _anything_ that breathed or excreted.

"I thought zoos fell under the Fish and Wildlife Service?" Rob the Reporter asked.

"Actually," Dr. Ferris answered. "Zoos are governed by the Agriculture Department, under the _Animal Welfare Act_ and various regulatory bodies, but dragons are mostly exempt."

"As I said, their care is directly overseen by the State Department," Mr. Fuller said proudly.

"So if Samantha had concerns…" Rob hinted. Mr. Fuller either didn't understand the question, or chose to fake it. Rob lowered his camera to ask the question directly. "If Dr. Ferris felt there were errors being made in the care of the dragons, who would she bring those up to?"

Mr. Fuller glowered and looked ready to blast the little reporter. Once again, Dr. Ferris interrupted the confrontation. "If I had any concerns," she said. "Though, I'm not saying I have—I would bring them up with my regional director. He would take them up to the national director, who would discuss them with the Secretary of Agriculture."

"And Agriculture would discuss it with State?" Rob asked.

Dr. Ferris' lips lifted in a mocking sneer. "In a perfect world."

The reporter asked more questions, endless questions, and got them all talking about declining numbers, escapes, and the black-market. He got the views of all sides. Some of their opinions would probably be understatedly described as "passionate." Explosive, heated, at the level of a minor war— _those_ would've been Jared's choice of descriptors, but however it came out, the nervous little reporter gathered a lot of information that probably wasn't in any official brochure.

Jared stayed out of it, walking beside his mama, and looking at everything he could. At one point, they exited the back area of one building and used an enclosed walkway to cross to a new one. There were people on the other side of the glass. People who were shouting and singing, chanting and holding signs. All of them wanting to be part of history or to make their opinion known.

"How does the president do this every day?" Jared asked of nobody in particular.

"How does anyone get used to anything," one of the agents asked in return.

"By doing it a lot," Jared answered. He gave one last look at the crowd before he was swept into another protected area. The people's faces had been contorted into masks, which seemed unreal, almost frightening. He decided he didn't want to be president, not if he had to learn how to deal with _that_.

"Agent Whitfield," Mama asked. "How much longer?"

"We're nearly there."

Rob left the argument when he heard and moved in front of Jared. Walking backwards, he took pictures of Jensen, who had his front paws on Jared's head again. The dragon was so tense he was vibrating. There was a sense of "others-close, others-close" that Jared couldn't shake. There was also "wantwantwant" that he _knew_ wasn't coming from him.

"Does he usually do that?" Rob asked.

"No, this is new. I think he knows there are more dragons around here, and he's getting a little excited," Jared answered, once again shifting the dragon's scratchy little feet off his sensitive scalp. "Can I ask you something?"

Rob let his hands droop, lowering the camera. "Uh, sure, I guess. It's not about the Pulitzer thing again, is it?"

Jared shook his head. "No, not that. I was just wondering where your tape recorder is. I mean, you had all these guys talking, or shouting, all sorts of interesting stuff. How are you going to remember it all?"

"Oh, uh…" Rob blushed a little. "I have a phonographic memory."

"Don't you mean 'photographic'?" Jared asked.

"No, no. Phonographic. I remember what I hear. Everything I hear," Rob said. "Later I'll type it out and it'll be like hearing dictation."

"That's cool," Jared said, thinking of how much easier school would be with that ability.

"I try not to eavesdrop when I think people are talking about me," Rob said. "That isn't any fun." The reporter lifted his camera so he could take a picture of Jensen, who was standing on Jared's head again. Jared could feel the claws pricking his scalp. Jared knew Jensen didn't mean to do it, but the dragon seemed too excited to completely control himself.

"Ow, ow, ow," Jared said as he carefully dug Jensen's claws out of his head. This time, when Jared took Jensen down, he didn't just shift the dragon back to his shoulder, he tucked him in his arms like a small dog.

"Good idea," Agent Whitfield said. "We've got one more public area to cross, and it's an open area. Local law enforcement has cleared it, but it's a big space. You'll be exposed for five minutes, maybe less. Keep Jensen down and out of sight as much as possible. It'll help keep the crazy down." He paused; considered. "Might not. We'll keep you and your mother safe."

"What about the dragon?" Deputy Director Fuller demanded.

" _He_ can fly," the agent said dryly. "Worst-case, he flies up to the roof until things quiet down."

This time it was Dr. Barnes glaring at the special agent. "Worst case is he flies off."

Special Agent Whitfield looked at the dragon. Jensen was grumbling but not trying to climb out of Jared's hold. "I don't think it'll be a problem."

Two agents opened the doors to the eating area; more agents were waiting on the other side. They had six surrounding them, not including Special Agent Whitfield, when they walked out into the open.

It was both better and worse than going through the other "public" area had been. Better, because the crowds were farther back, and there wasn't any glass so Jared felt less like a fish in a bowl. Worse, because there was nothing to block out any of the sound. In fact, it was doubly loud because the high roof caught all the singing and shouting and screaming and echoed it back down at them.

"Holy shit," Jared said, stunned.

"Jared Tristan! Language," his mama said in reproof (and proved, once again, that she had preternatural hearing).

He apologized absently, but most of his attention was on the crowd—the crazy, _huge_ crowds. Over there a bunch of people were chanting the charms of Kansas City; another one was shouting for St. Louis, and yet another group sang about how great Memphis was. From the looks of the competing groups, Jared figured they were one careless sign bash away from coming to blows. Animal rights people had shown up to protest not just caging dragons and zoos in general, but also animal testing, the seal hunt up in Canada, corporate ranching, and the wearing of fur anywhere in the world. They looked capable of taking on both the pro-KC _and_ the Memphis groups and winning.

They also didn't seem to like him much.

"Don't worry about it, Jared. Extremists and fanatics—we're safe enough from them," said Mr. Fuller, striding in the circle of agents as if he had this sort of protection all the time. Maybe he did, Jared allowed. He was still an ass, because they'd been "safe enough" at home, too, but that hadn't stopped someone from shooting at them. He wondered if they'd caught the guy—or girl—yet.

He was about to ask when he caught movement on his right. Someone was charging out of the crowd, knocking over the barrier and pushing over a cop. It was a guy. He was shouting. He had on essentially the same kind of thing Jared was wearing: jeans, runners and a hoodie. He didn't look like he was armed.

The agents were already in motion, but Jared moved in front of his mama anyway. He didn't have a gun, and he didn't know how to fight, but he was big and hard to shift. He put his arm around her and kept her moving toward the far doors, just like the agents were doing to him.

At the house, the air had felt thin and wavery—unreal. Here, everything was thick and slow. Jared's heartbeat reverberated inside him. Even the whirring of Rob's camera seemed expanded.

Even draped over his arm, Jensen hissed and his ruff flared, as the little dragon prepared to defend them as best he could. Jared took the hint and lifted him back onto his shoulder.

The crowd yelled, screamed and chanted even louder in support-anger-fear. The sound was distorted. They pushed against the barrier and the cops had to lock arms to keep them contained. They moved in slow motion.

'Don't stop moving,' Jared told himself. 'Don't stop moving.'

Then a dark-suited agent tackled the guy into the cold, dirty asphalt, and the world snapped into real time. The assailant was struggling, wiggling like a worm trying to get off the fish hook. Another agent joined the first.

"Take me! I am one of you!" he shouted. "I am Dragon-Born!"

Jared's group swept past him and into the safety of the Dragon House. It had been completely emptied, and the blinds were drawn, so they paused in the entry, catching their breath amid the colorful and informative displays. There was a candy machine against the wall and Jared went to it without conscious thought. "I need chocolate," he said to the agent who followed him.

"Get the chocolate-covered raisins," the agent said. "They're good for shock."

'Shock,' Jared wondered without interest. 'Is that what I'm feeling?' Still, the agent's suggestion was a good one. "Mama? Want anything?" He wasn't surprised when she said no. He shrugged and got two bags, and shoved a palmful in his mouth.

"What did he mean, 'I am dragon-born'?" Jared asked when his mouth was empty. "Isn't that from a game?"

"Many games, actually," Mr. Collins said with a smile.

"There's also those books by George R. R. Martin," one of agents commented.

"It's also a fringe group that believes that being bitten by a dragon will allow them to become one," Special Agent Whitfield said.

"To… become a _dragon_?" Jared asked stupidly. "Dragons aren't _vampires_."

"Maybe they're second cousins, twice removed," Agent Whitfield responded dryly.

"Mr. Padalecki… What are you doing?" Dr. Barnes was staring death rays at him.

Jared froze, hand in the air. Jensen snatched the chocolate-covered raisin from his palm. He chewed it perfunctorily, and swallowed it down defiantly then he croaked in demand for more.

"Jensen eats all the time," Jared said as he let the dragon take another raisin. "And we're out of mango." His heart was beating as hard, if not harder than it had been outside.

Dr. Barnes's outrage was so strong the air around him fairly crackled with it—like indoor lightning. He took a step forward. Jensen snarled. His claws pricked into Jared's arm—along with every other ridge and spine—and his ruff was fully extended.

"Do you have any idea what that will do to him?" the vet demanded.

"Do you?" Mr. Collins asked in return. "Dragons were in pens by the time chocolate was readily available in Europe," he said. "Have they ever been given any? Or have the 'experts' just assumed that dragons were like dogs?"

And the battle was back on.

Jared took a shaky breath in relief at having all that anger directed at someone else. Jensen snarled and chirped and shook himself, and then decided to ignore the whole thing while he ate Jared's chocolate-covered raisins. The agent beside them took his hand off the butt of his gun.

Jared's mouth opened in shock. "Would you…" He didn't know how to complete the question, so he waved at the weapon.

"Our orders are to protect you and the dragon from any and all threats," the agent replied. In other words: yes, he would've shot Dr. Barnes.

"Oh," Jared said faintly. "Thanks."

"So what'll happen to the guy outside?" he heard Rob the Reporter ask.

Agent Whitfield answered, even as he kept an eye on the confrontation happening in front of him. "He'll be held and questioned to make sure he is exactly what he appears to be. If he is, he'll be let go."

"If he isn't?" Rob asked, taking picture after picture.

Agent Whitfield's lips quirked. "Maybe we'll let a dragon bite him, and see what happens." Jared felt Jensen's coughing laugh against his arm.

"We will do no such thing," Dr. Barnes broke off his "discussion" with Mr. Collins to pronounce. "The human body is filled with parasites and diseases. It would be a monumentally irresponsible act and I, for one, could not allow it." His voice was deep enough to produce its own soft echoes in the empty space.

It was a great voice, Jared thought. Too bad the guy was a completely humorless dick.

Mr. Fuller made a derogatory comment about Agent Whitfield, and Mr. Collins leaped to the agent's defense. Not that Agent Whitfield needed it.

Jared thought it was more because Mr. Collins liked winding up his former colleagues. The soft-spoken, solemn-faced former bureaucrat had both of them shouting and making threats before Dr. Ferris finally shut them down. "Enough," she yelled. "That's enough!"

Surprisingly it worked. She glared at the three men. If she'd had a gun, she would've shot it—maybe at the roof, but more likely at one of them, and they all knew it. "Unbelievable," she huffed.

Mr. Collins stepped back and gave a small smile. Mr. Fuller opened his mouth. Dr. Ferris spoke first. "No, not another word. Take some deep breaths, and for God's sake, _grow up!_ This isn't about some ancient grudge; it's about the dragon, and as it stands, none of you is going into the viewing room."

Mr. Fuller sputtered, "You _can't–_ "

"Try me," she snarled. "Even I know that dragons are sensitive to moods, and I cannot allow you to go in there all riled up the way you are."

"I am not riled," said Dr. Barnes, and Jared agreed that he didn't sound riled; he sounded like they'd been discussing golf. His eyes gave it away, though. He looked like strangling Mr. Collins with his crappy tie wasn't completely off the table.

Dr. Ferris saw it, too. "We could black out the eastern seaboard with how 'not riled' you are," she fired back.

"You cannot stop us from going through," Dr. Barnes said.

"Oh, can't I?"

"You need my thumbprint to access the service corridor," Dr. Barnes' look was smug, and Jared, who wasn't even the target of that look, wanted to punch him.

"What position?" Rob asked and broke the stillness. Nobody answered. "One of the things Deputy Director Fuller said was that Misha and Dr. Barnes had been in line for the same position. What position?"

Silence.

Rob smiled nervously. "I'll just keep asking. I'm good at that. What position?"

"My deputy," was Mr. Fuller's brief response.

"Assistant Deputy," Dr. Barnes corrected.

"Assistant Deputy to the Deputy… Director?" Rob said hesitantly. He rolled his lips, sucking them into his mouth even as his eyes began to dance.

"Well," Mama said in a tight voice. "At least Mr. Fuller isn't a deputy assistant."

"It's an _important_ position," Mr. Fuller insisted. "Lots of people wanted it."

Mr. Collins nodded his head, "More important than being the Deputy Assistant to the Assistant Deputy, which had been my previous position."

Jared choked off a laugh. So did Rob and Dr. Ferris. Even Special Agent Whitfield was smiling openly.

"And within a year, he'd thrown it away," Mr. Fuller said. "Betrayed us."

"I couldn't ignore the truth," Mr. Collins said.

Dr. Barnes sneered. "You mean you couldn't handle it," he said and set everyone off.

Jensen chirped at him hopefully.

"No, I'm not getting you coffee, jeez," Jared answered without thinking. "You can have water."

"Does he seriously need something to drink?" Dr. Ferris asked and snapped Jared back into awareness of his surroundings.

"Um, no," he replied. "He just likes coffee." Behind him Dr. Barnes growled.

"We'll do this first," she said, nodding. "The day's getting shorter and we still have work to do. Dr. Barnes, you'll come in with us so that you can open the doors, but _that's it_. I will go into the enclosure to represent the Zoo and answer any questions Jared or Sherri might have."

"I'll be going," Agent Whitfield announced. "Neither Jared nor the dragon is to be unaccompanied; those are my orders. Plus, once Dr. Barnes gets us into the back rooms, I can open the doors to the actual enclosure."

"You can?" Dr. Ferris asked hopefully. At the agent's nod, she let out a relieved breath. "Then Dr. Barnes can stay in the viewing room—less disharmony that way," she said. Jared had to agree with her.

"Rob goes in too," Mama added. "He's the neutral witness."

"As long as nothing blows up around me," Rob said in what was probably supposed to be a joke.

"I'm okay with that plan," Jared said with a grin. Jensen chirped his agreement. He'd finished all the raisins, and now the dragon seemed eager to see more of his own kind, and, Jared thought, enjoy some dragon companionship…

"Yeah, enough of that," Jared said out loud. He didn't need to be thinking of dragon sex, right now. Misha raised his eyebrow at him but Jared ignored it.

Dr. Ferris gave the go-ahead and told Agent Whitfield to lead the way.

With an appreciative nod, the special agent sent two of his agents to the door that separated the lobby from the viewing area. "We'll do a quick sweep," he said. "Make sure nobody's hiding under the seats."

While they waited, Jared took up position close to the reporter and away from Dr. Barnes. He watched as Mr. Collins moved to the snack machine and stared at the choices, like he was meditating or something. The deputy director was at the far side of the lobby, talking on his cell phone. From the looks he was shooting at them, he was A) pissed, and B) plotting something.

Jared wondered if getting _out_ of the enclosure would be as easy as getting in.

Agent Whitfield's people came back out and gave the all clear. Within moments they were moving. His heart pounded, anticipation, fear… longing. He was pretty sure that last emotion wasn't his, so he kept one hand on Jensen trying to aim soothing thoughts at him. Then they were in the viewing room.

It was set somewhat higher than the living area so that Jared was looking down and in. From here, they could look through the one-way glass and see into the magical mystical dragon enclosure. This one was the size of a couple lanes in an Olympic-size pool. The near end was water-filled. It had a pipe delivering running water on one side and another pipe to let it flow out; there were bare tree branches draped around it, and a couple big rocks in the middle of it. The back wall had a shoreline and some trees painted on it. The far end had actual living plants. They were in pots, but they were alive. Maybe the designers had thought it would make the whole thing look like a lake. It failed.

Horribly.

The American government had spent billions in the 80s upgrading the dragon cages. Whatever they'd done, the result was… pretty dreary, actually. "This is what we traded the Space Lab for?" he asked out loud.

"Oh… my," was his mama's underwhelmed response to the industrialized nature of the dragons' habitat.

"It has state of the art security," the deputy director defended.

The room's ceiling was glass, or probably Plexiglas, panels in a dense lattice of steel beams. There was a narrow strip of windows lining the ceiling on the far side. It meant that there was lots of light pouring into the enclosure. Unfortunately, it was enough light for the industrial-mint paint to almost turn fluorescent. There were huge fans circulating the air, which had to be hot with that much glass.

"It looks like the inside of a bunker," Mama said. Jared didn't disagree. Even the potted forest at the one end didn't make it any less depressing.

"Where are the dragons?" Rob asked. Dr. Ferris pointed to the far end, of course. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jensen beat her to it.

The dragon had finally climbed out of Jared's arms and back to his shoulder. Now, the dragon filled his air sacs, expanding them so much they were almost as big as his head. When he released them, the room echoed with Jensen's call.

Jared thought the sound probably rattled the glass, but it had happened right by his head and he was having a little trouble hearing. Judging from all the jaw-popping and ear-rubbing going on, everyone was having the same problem.

But while they stood there stunned and blank, the dragons' response was clear and immediate. They popped out of the greenery; all four of them, hopping and walking into the more exposed area by the water. They stared up at them through the glass and Jared could see small air sacs puffing out on a couple of them, but if they were making any noise, he couldn't hear it. He didn't think Jensen could hear it either because the little dragon chirruped unhappily.

Or maybe he could hear, but they weren't telling him anything good.

Before Jared could get too worried about it, the outer doors flew open and the rest of their merry band charged in.

"What was that?" demanded Deputy Director Fuller.

Jensen took a breath.

"Cover your ears," Jared called right before Jensen let loose another bellow.

A couple of the caged dragons skittered and jumped, looking both excited and nervous.

"Your dragons don't do that?" Mama asked, once the sound had died away.

"Certainly not," Dr. Barnes answered. He sounded offended by the very suggestion.

Jared ignored whatever Mr. Collins said in response because he'd noticed Rob was standing like a pillar in the middle of the floor. If pillars could shake and twitch, that was.

"Rob," he said softly as he approached. "Rob, it's okay, dude. You're in Kansas City. In America. Nobody's shooting at us."

Wide eyes pivoted to look at him.

"Jensen won't do it again; will you, Jen?" He turned to the dragon on his shoulder but Jensen had already hopped over to the reporter.

"Oh, he's heavy," Rob said, surprised and vacant.

Jensen went up and nuzzled the guy's chin, (in what Jared would swear was an apology) and gave Rob a quick swipe on the cheek with his tongue. _That_ made Rob jump. "Whoa… It's like a cat's. Weird," he said, and his voice was his normal tone and his eyes were clear again.

Job obviously done, Jensen hopped back to Jared's shoulder.

The fight that had been brewing behind him had settled into silence. It was a tense silence, and, like the peace between India and Pakistan, it threatened to unravel at any moment. It was still peace, however, and Dr. Ferris decided it was good enough. "But if any of you even squeak in an aggressive tone, I'll have Special Agent Whitfield toss you all out on your ears."

Dr. Barnes glared. "Your superior will be informed of this."

"And I'll be having a little chat with the Secretary of State when I get back," Mr. Fuller added.

"And we'll all get to read all about it in the… What papers and magazines did you write for again?" Mr. Collins asked Rob.

"All of them," the reporter answered, voice shaking a little with nerves.

It was petty, but Jared enjoyed watching the two officious bullies squirm.

"Okay, since _that's_ settled," Dr. Ferris said, drawing the attention back to her. She waved her hand at the glass wall in front of them. "Let's introduce you to our dragons. Kansas City Zoo currently has four dragons: two adult males, one adult female, and one juvenile. We had one more female, but she died last year."

"What'd she die of?" Jared asked.

"Old age." Dr. Barnes answered.

"Wasn't she just 87?" Rob asked as he clicked away. "I thought dragons could live a lot longer."

"They can," Mr. Collins said before anyone else could comment. "Some towns recorded seeing the same dragon for nearly three hundred years."

"Fairy tales!" his former boss spat.

Mr. Collins raised his hand. "To be fair, daylight dragon sightings usually happened only once or twice a generation. More often, a villager would see 'their' dragon at night so details of marking and coloring would be hard to discern."

"You're saying maybe they saw different dragons," Rob said.

Mr. Collins nodded. "One theory holds that dragons passed down territories to their offspring. If it was true then new dragons would have resembled the old dragon, who would have looked like the previous dragon, and so on."

"So nobody actually knows how long 'wild' dragons lived," Rob confirmed.

"That is correct."

"So 87 _could_ be old."

Mr. Collins' shoulders shifted in a small shrug. "It could be."

"It is, Rob. Take it from me," Mr. Fuller said. "We have the statistics from the last _five hundred_ years to prove it." Then the deputy director gave Mr. Collins a satisfied smirk.

"Don't you have, like, the second oldest dragon in the U.S.?" Jared asked Dr. Ferris and she seized the topic with visible relief.

"We do. He's 103." She pointed to a dragon not much bigger than Jensen. He was a grey-blue color, kind of like the color the police wore in San Antonio. Whatever colors or pattern the old guy had, they were bland, faded... depressing.

"Does he have a name?"

"The State Department gives them designations, like inventory numbers," Mr. Collins interjected.

Dr. Ferris ignored him. "His name is Mitch. He generally likes to stay in the shadows. JD is the next oldest and the other male." She pointed at a dragon who seemed to be painted shades of dull brown. "He came to us from the west coast as a hatchling. He likes to show off more than the others—real 'cock of the walk' stuff." JD was sitting on the highest branch, slowly flapping his wing.

"Loretta is next to him," Dr. Ferris continued, pointing at a plump dragon who looked like she was arguing with JD. "She's a Missouri native—St. Louis, rather than KC, though we try not to hold that against her. Our newest addition is Danneel—Danni. She's a beauty." This time Dr. Ferris pointed at the slender dragon perched on the boulder by the "trees." _Her_ scales seemed to have a faint red tone but again the colors and patterns were washed out and faded—nothing at all like Jensen's vivid tones.

Jared looked at the dragons. They looked unhappy, and maybe unhealthy, but it could be a result of their colors. He was used to looking at Jensen, and maybe Jen was the anomaly. Plus, nobody looked their best up against an industrial green backdrop. Then there was the fact that he couldn't get a sense of them. Jared always felt a hum of awareness of what Jensen was feeling. It wasn't always strong or clear, but it was there (and if _that_ wasn't freaky enough…). Jared could get nothing off the four zoo dragons. It could've been distance, or familiarity.

Or it could be the two-inch reinforced Plexiglas window between them.

"Can we go in now?" Jared asked, and Jen scurried over to the shoulder closest to Dr. Ferris and chirped at her.

"Absolutely not," Dr. Barnes stated.

"I'm supposed to be allowed inside," Jared argued. "It was part of the deal." In fact, he'd insisted on it, with unusual stubbornness.

"The risk that you will carry contaminants into the enclosure with you is too high."

"Nonsense," Mr. Fuller said with a hearty clap of his hands. "There's no reason to think that Jared is infected with anything damaging. After all, he's been around Jensen for over twenty-four hours, and Jensen certainly isn't showing any signs of illness. Isn't that right, Jared?"

"This was already decided," Dr. Ferris said. "Jared, Jensen, me, Rob, Sherri, and Agent Whitfield. That's it."

Dr. Barnes was shaking his head, when Mama spoke up. "I'll be staying here," she said.

"You will?" Jared asked in confused disappointment.

"I think it best," she said. Then she opened her purse and showed Jared Megan's cell phone wrapped firmly in her hand. "Just in case. Besides, Agent Whitfield will look after you."

"That I will, ma'am," Agent Whitfield assured her.

Jared rolled his eyes—he was nearly seventeen after all—but privately, he was relieved. He'd been threatened with blackmail, his family had been attacked by armed thugs, and he'd been shot at and mobbed. He was allowed to feel a little nervous. Having the super-competent agent with him would be reassuring.

It wasn't only the demonstrators or the open hostility between the so-called experts. It wasn't even the attacks or being the center of a media storm. Something else was drawing the tension tighter and higher until both he and Jensen were practically vibrating with it. He wanted this to be done, over, because what was waiting behind that door was going to be big—life-changing.

If those were Jensen's emotions, his hopes and expectations, then all Jared could do was wish that the little dragon wouldn't be disappointed.


	6. Crashing All Around

  
GENT WHITFIELD SENT A COUPLE OF HIS AGENTS THROUGH THE BACK DOOR FIRST, and made the three of them wait for the all clear. Jared's heart rate spiked as he imagined them finding bombs or terrorists or more "dragon-born" fanatics… which was ridiculous, and he knew it. The door had been locked with pin pad, card key, and thumbprint scanner (totally cool).

Special Agent Whitfield waved them through then closed the door carefully behind them.

Jared looked around curiously but this corridor was, if anything, even more depressing than the others they'd marched through. There were no windows, just basic florescent lighting, and every door was the heavy, reinforced kind. It was like _Get Smart_ but without the humor.

"Everything here is filtered, recirculated, and sterilized," Agent Whitfield informed them. "The whole structure was built to be proof against tornadoes, floods, biological or chemical weapons, and even a nuclear bomb going off in the neighborhood."

"That's why it feels like a bunker instead of a habitat," was Dr. Ferris' acerbic response. "We know so much more about creating viable, long-term, living spaces for our animals but we're not allowed to put _any_ of it into practice when it comes to dragons."

"National security?" Rob asked.

"National security," she confirmed.

By this time, Agent Whitfield had opened the door to the enclosure; or rather he'd opened the first door. Beyond it was a small containment room. The agent explained that they'd all have to squeeze in to the tiny space while the air cycled through. "So we take in as few contaminants with us as possible." Then he would use his card key and his code to open the door to the actual dragon room.

They obediently shuffled into the cube and Agent Whitfield shut the outer door. He pushed a button and the lights turned orange, there was a loud humming noise, and cold air blew down on them and was sucked out by their feet.

It was weird and claustrophobic. Jared could only be glad only that there weren't more people in the group. He was a friendly guy, but this was ridiculous!

It didn't help that Jensen was practically pacing; moving from one shoulder to the other, then back again. There was no mistaking Jen's excitement at meeting the other dragons because he wasn't being as careful with his claws and spikes as he normally was. Jared was beginning to feel like an abused pincushion.

He was also starting to really worry.

If the meeting went well, would Jensen want to stay here?

Jared liked Dr. Ferris, but Dr. Barnes… The man was seriously unfriendly and Jared couldn't see Jensen being happy under his so-called care. Plus, how would he know if Jensen liked it here? Sure, Jen had ways of making his feelings known but this was a bit more complicated than "I'm hungry" and "pet me" or "give me coffee."

He tried to tell himself that nothing was settled, and that anything could happen, but thinking it didn't stop his heart from thump-thump-thumping or the sweat from dripping down from… everywhere.

Jensen was chirruping impatiently, waiting for the doors to cycle. Jared tried petting him, but it didn't help either one of them.

The air finally shut off and Agent Whitfield stepped forward to unlock the next, and final, door. The air coming through the door smelled moist and slightly stale. There was also a hint of green things that Jared always associated with Grandmama's greenhouse.

"Those windows are open," Rob said from beside him. "All these precautions and you have open windows."

"Actually, there is nearly a foot between the inner wall you see and the outer wall where the windows are. In between are a series of filters and screens and mirrors to allow the light to come through. There are also lasers."

"Seriously?" Jared asked. He hadn't noticed the windows when they entered the room. He'd noticed the wall of green leaves they'd walked into. It looked a lot thicker from back here. He'd also noticed Jensen's claws digging into his shoulder with frightening intensity.

"It's to stop people from throwing rocks and bottles into the enclosure," Dr. Ferris explained. "It also keeps out other animals that might carry diseases or parasites."

"Is that a big problem?" Rob asked, puzzled.

"Not huge, but people toss the weirdest things into the enclosures, so some kind of protection is needed," Dr. Ferris answered. She led the way through the wall of greenery. "And wild animals do try to get in. Just last week a bat flew into them. It did some damage to one of the filters, and cut itself on one of the screens."

"Was it killed?" Jared asked.

"We don't know," she said. "Usually animals don't manage to get out, once they're in, but this one did. We didn't find the body. Worst-case scenario is that it flew far enough away that it wouldn't be found. It probably died of its injuries."

"Ow! Dude," Jared whispered, tapping at Jen's feet.

Jensen hissed and clicked, but he did let up. The little dragon had his wings out so he could balance on Jared's shoulder.

They left the potted trees and stepped into the mostly empty area in the middle of the enclosure. Jared looked up to the window, knowing that his mama would be up there looking down at them, but the glass was hazy from this side.

With a soft screech Jensen jumped off his shoulder, flying up in a whirling line before coming back down and landing on a rock some distance away from Jared.

_It was time._ He was better, stronger than before. He could do it now.

Jared shook himself out of Jensen's thoughts. "What are you up to?" he asked the dragon quietly, hoping the mental communication thing worked both ways. The big space suddenly felt claustrophobic.

_Out, out, out. Need free air._

Rob was busy taking pictures, swapping one camera for another for reasons only he knew, taking advantage of being in the same space as four of America's dragons. He peppered Dr. Ferris with questions. He threw a couple at Jared, but Jared wasn't paying attention to the reporter: he was looking at the four dragons. Mitch, JD, Loretta, and Danni were all perched on the dead tree limbs that crisscrossed the space between the trees and the pond. They were all staring directly at Jensen, and they were all chirping and grunting and calling to each other.

"Is that normal?" Rob asked. Dr. Ferris looked at him with one eyebrow raised in question. "For them to talk like that when a new dragon is introduced," he clarified.

"I've never seen it before," she said with a wry twist of her lips. "But then, the introduction of a new dragon into a pride is a process closely guarded by the State."

A sense of danger filled Jared. He was too close; they all were. He took a couple steps back toward the fake forest.

"Guys?" Jared said hesitantly. "I think we should give them some room." And he took a couple steps back.

Agent Whitfield put a hand on his gun. "What is it?" He was scanning the area, searching for the danger.

"I just think we should back up bit."

Something in his voice must have made the special agent accept the warning without explanation. Whitfield backed the group closer to the potted tree line, away from the dragon conference by the pond.

As soon as they reached the green area's dubious safety, Jared felt a powerful vibration in his chest, like listening to music with the bass turned up to max. Pressure began to build in his ears, making his jaw hurt. He stretched his jaw and swallowed, trying to make his ears pop to relieve the pressure. It didn't help. It just kept growing.

"What's going on?" Rob asked nervously, finally coming out from behind his camera.

"Don't stop taking pictures," Jared ordered. This was important. "No matter what happens, keep shooting."

The rumble wasn't only in their lungs anymore. In front of them Jensen opened his mouth to roar. The sound started off small, but changed to something deep and fierce. Jared watched as the cute, little dragon he'd cuddled and spoiled _rippled_ … and disappeared.

It was as if the sun had been sucked out of the room, along with the air, resulting in a complete absence of light and a lung-sucking vacuum for one heart-stopping moment. Then air and light and sound returned and there was a dragon out of legend filling the room. More than filling, it was overflowing it. It pushed up, up, up, against the unbreakable, impermeable, Plexiglas roof.

"Holy shit," Dr. Ferris murmured. "Is that…?'

"That's Jensen," Jared confirmed, hearing the awe in his own voice.

Jen's vivid green coloring hadn't been diminished by his expansion to the size of a _house_. The light areas glowed, and the dark patches were like a cloudy night in the countryside, and it was definitely, and absolutely, Jensen.

"How did he do that?" Rob asked, still taking his pictures, even as he tried to inch further away from the dragon.

"Because he's a wild dragon?" Jared guessed. "He hasn't forgotten how."

They all watched as Jen pushed up against the sky roof's thick metal girders. The dragon grunted and braced himself, and pushed up with his front legs. His wings, easily touching both sides of the enclosure now, beat down, and dirt and water and twigs and leaves flew around the room in a maelstrom of focused intent.

The roof cracked.

The other dragons, adrift on the ground, fluttered their wings and called, whether in encouragement or fear, Jared didn't know.

He wondered how they were reacting to this up in the viewing area. Probably not well, he realized. He looked at the blurry glass and gave a thumbs up to let his mama know he was okay. Then he realized that she wasn't the only one who would be reacting badly to having Jensen try to free the dragons. Deputy Director Fuller and Dr. Barnes would be _pissed_.

Did the building go on lock-down, with all entrances sealed? He didn't know, but if it didn't, then the obvious objective would be to stop Jensen using whatever force necessary.

Jared ran to the enclosure's entrance.

On this side, the door had the same kind of cardkey system as it had had on the other, which meant they were probably connected somehow. He guessed that if he could disable the reader on this side, maybe it wouldn't allow the door to open. Then Dr. Barnes and Mr. Fuller wouldn't be able to break in and stop Jensen.

Jared pounded on the panel but it didn't even vibrate. He put his ear to the door but he couldn't hear if the air was cycling.

'Shitshitshitshitshit.'

He ran into the fake woods and picked up one of the smaller bushes in its pot. It was heavier than he'd thought, but he managed to get the plant balanced over his shoulder. The weight made the tiny lacerations Jensen had left on his shoulders hurt like hell, but Jared ignored the pain.

Jared was certain Jensen was the 'bat' Dr. Ferris had talked about. He had practically torn his wing off trying to free the Kansas City dragons and Jared was going to give him the chance to finish the job.

A large piece of plaster broke from the ceiling and fell to the floor with a crash. There was a moment's void, then a roar, deeper and rougher than Jensen's, echoed in the suddenly too-small space.

Jared couldn't take the time to look but he did anyway, balancing the pot between his head and shoulder. A huge brown dragon, the same size as Jensen, had joined him. The new one was brown, like JD, but these shades of brown weren't those of drought-pale dirt; they were rich with life. From pale glittering sand to dark, rich loam, all the colors of the Earth could be seen in the dragon's scales.

He was beautiful.

More plaster fell. The walls that anchored the girders began to crack and flake. Jared felt as if they were inside a tornado. Except instead of fear, excitement tumbled around inside him, making his breath shallow and his footsteps light despite the weight of the potted bush.

Jared staggered to the door, lowered himself into a crouch, and grabbed one of the smaller branches. He took a big breath, and heaved.

The heavy clay pot went up. High. Much higher than Jared had expected. The pot seemed to stand still in midair for a moment before it started to fall. Jared tugged on the branch he was still holding onto, and the pot's descending arc shifted. It landed nice and square on the control panel, which sparked and fizzled and popped as the electrical circuits shorted out. It had worked. The panel was broken.

Hopefully it would be enough to keep the others out.

The dragons roared and Jared was driven to his knees by the overwhelming pressure of the sound. He was barely aware of the chunks of cement and bits of Plexiglas that fell around him, dropping from a roof damaged beyond its ability to hold them. He heard the calls of the Kansas City dragons, exulting and excited, but it was distant because all Jared could focus on was keeping his lungs moving, keeping his heart pumping, and trying not to wonder if he'd ever hear properly again.

Then he realized that he was missing it—missing this moment when all the legends became real and true, and _how could he be missing it?_

He pulled himself up along the trunk of one of the skinny trees, heedless of scraped cheeks and palms, aware only of the weakness of his limbs. He needed to be there. He needed to see it work. It would work. He had to believe it. After all this, it _had_ to work.

Some of the pots had fallen over and Jared stumbled over them. Sections of Plexiglas also littered the floor, but Jared managed not to trip on anything as he made his way back to the others. When he cleared the trees, he looked up. There were only a few panels left in the roof, mostly at the far ends. He could see three dragons—red, black, and grey—on the other side of what was left of the roof, dancing against Kansas City's wide, blue sky.

Only Jensen and JD remained: creatures out of legend and holy-fucking-magnificent with it! They'd broken the crap out of the roof!

He spotted Agent Whitfield and Dr. Ferris curled up under some heavy limbs they'd leaned against the boulder in the middle of the room. It wasn't great protection, but it kept the largest pieces of debris away from them. Rob was out in the open, oblivious to the danger, caught up in his pictures. Jared ran over to him, meaning to get him to the shelter, but as soon as he stepped into the clear area, the air pressure changed.

It was like before—air-sucking vacuum, completely blind—but it was also completely different because this time the pressure wasn't pushing him away; it was pulling him in.

When vision returned he saw that Jensen and JD were gone.

No, not gone. Just back to being small.

Jared watched as the newly luminous brown dragon shook out his wings and flew up and up. JD flew out through one of the missing panels, crying out in unmistakable joy.

Jensen landed on a branch in front of Jared and Jared's mind filled with not-quite images, not-quite words.

_Flight. Freedom, Joy in the Sky. Companionship_.

"You did it, Jensen," Jared said, cheeks burning he was smiling so hard. ""You're giving that to them."

_Before, empty sky, empty land. Empty everywhere. Now, dragons fly. Good. Proper._

"The world's not empty," Jared warned. "Y'all will be hunted." Jared tried to project the reminder of black marketers and poachers. One would try to capture them. The other would kill.

_Free dragons stronger. Powerful. Find others. Live together. Protection. Find allies, safe nests. Protection._

Suddenly, Jared had an image of a man, dressed like a Wyoming rancher, waiting by a small fire, horse carefully tied to a distant tree. Waiting for a dragon—a female dragon, Jared realized. The rancher offered her some meat, and Jared could see claws reaching out for it. He could feel the lack of concern, for this was a trusted human, and they were allies.

"Hey, girl," Jared heard the rancher say. "Hunters have come from back east. They say they're hunting bear and cougar, but I reckon they wouldn't object to nabbing a dragon."

Jared heard himself croak in understanding.

The rancher stood up, brushing off his jeans. "Take care of yourself and your young'un, Doña _mia_ ,, but if you need help, you know where to find me."

Jared watched as the rancher tipped his hat then walked back to his horse, still placidly eating grass, unconcerned by the nearness of the predator. The vision-story-memory faded and Jared had to blink in the brightness of the Missouri sky.

"Was that your mama?" Jared asked the dragon in front of him.

Jensen chirped. It had been.

_Captured. Gone. Look, look, look. Trapped dragons everywhere. No fly. Bad, bad, bad. All must fly, must be free._

Jared blinked and the enormity of the idea Jensen had shared with him. He took a step closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "You're gonna rescue dragons? _All_ the dragons?"

_Filled sky. Filled land. Healthy. Happy. Good._

Jared took that as a yes.

"Whoa," he breathed. What else could he say? "You be careful," he murmured, and "I'm gonna miss you."

Images filled his mind, images enhanced with sound and scents: Harley barked and Sadie licked. Olive whistled and Precious stared. There were bananas and mangos and sausage and _coffee_. Mostly there was him—Jared. He could sense his own concern for Jensen, his fond exasperation towards Harley and Olive and the whole menagerie. He was warm energy, safety, and a desire to do right. In Jensen's eyes he was a good person.

It made him blush and squirm, but it also made Jared happy. His mama would be proud when he told her.

"You too, man. If you ever need anything…" Jared said awkwardly.

Jensen huffed out his version of a laugh. Then the dragon gave one final bellow. This time the sound wasn't reduced because he was small; it was rich and full and deep. Then he was gone—flying up and out into the wide world.

Jared watched until the dragon was not even a speck.

"That was incredible!" Rob said, coming up beside him.

"It was, wasn't it?" Jared agreed, smiling.

"I'm pretty sure that almost counts as an explosion though," the reporter said dryly. "I think you owe me."

Jared laughed. He was going to tease back but Dr. Ferris was talking… and she was pissed.

"Did you know that was going to happen?" she demanded.

"No! How could I," Jared protested. "I didn't know he could do that."

"I don't believe you."

Jared shrugged. "I didn't know."

"I was under the impression that you didn't approve of how the State Department was handling the dragons," Rob said to the doctor, and he lifted his camera as if sensing the story wasn't done.

"They needed to be brought under the normal umbrella of the zoo, not used as a tool in a stupid game of political one-upmanship," she spat. "Doesn't mean I thought they should be _free_. Do you realize what kind of dangers they will face out there?"

"Do you realize that when they're the size of a two-story building, they're not in much danger from anything?" Jared countered.

Dr. Ferris growled in frustration, but there was not much to be said in argument.

"For what it's worth, Jensen does know the risks," Jared offered. "But they were dying in here. Out there… they won't. Not the same way."

"How do you know that?" Dr. Ferris demanded.

Jared shrugged. "People do better when they're free, why shouldn't dragons?"

"That's very poetic," Rob said, voice lightly mocking.

Dr. Ferris threw up her hands at them. "So what happens now?" she asked.

"We wait," Agent Whitfield said. He'd been back by the door, talking on his radio, making a report. "Deputy Director Fuller has already been in communication with the Secretary of State who will be briefing the President. Currently, Deputy Director Fuller is briefing the media outside the dragon enclosure." The agent's inflection didn't change, didn't become anything less than professional, but it was perfectly clear that he thought Deputy Director Fuller was an ambitious, opportunistic, glory-hound who was perfectly willing to let everyone else sink as long as he got saved.

"Will this cause you problems?" Jared asked. It was a bit late to worry about it, but… Agent Whitfield was a nice guy.

"Why would it?" he asked. "Nobody knew what your little dragon could do, or if they did, they didn't tell me. That means nobody on the ground could've predicted or prevented Jensen from doing what he did. I didn't help the dragons break out, and I didn't see anyone actively help either. Although it's unfortunate that in the turbulence caused by two extra-large animals flapping their wings in an enclosed space, the door's control panel was damaged by flying debris, but that's not an act of treason or espionage." He paused. "That's an accident."

Jared hadn't even thought about the possibility that he could be charged with treason, and he could feel the blood leave his face. How bad could it be? he wondered. After all, it wasn't like he'd stolen secret documents or the missile-launch codes. The Cold War was over, after all…

Still, it was obvious from Agent Whitfield's careful wording that he knew Jared had broken the pot on the cardkey reader.

"Will this affect your job?" Jared asked.

Agent Whitfield almost snickered. "I did my job," he replied. "You're safe, your family's safe, and the dragon was safe while under my protection. None of my people were injured or killed. It was a good op all the way around." This time Agent Whitfield did snicker. "Besides, Mr. Collins is out there spinning _his own_ version of events. He'll do enough damage control to cover _all_ our asses."

Considering Jensen's plans to recreate _The Great Escape_ (but with fewer deaths and recaptures), Jared wasn't sure if Special Agent Whitfield would still feel so sanguine about this op tomorrow.

* * *

  
They didn't have to wait a day.

The doors of the enclosure truly had been designed to withstand everything, including blowtorches. Special Agent Whitfield suggested that they be pulled up through the roof, but both Dr. Ferris and Rob had ix-nayed that idea vehemently. By the time they were released, Jensen's merry band of dragons had hit the zoo in Wichita.

They freed all three dragons kept there, bringing their numbers up to eight. A couple of hours after that, the zoos in Omaha and Oklahoma City were hit. Those rescues brought the total of free dragons up to eighteen. Enough that people started claiming to have seen dragons flying overhead.

Tracking tags, attached since birth, didn't work on the newly freed dragons, so nobody knew where the dragons would strike next. TV reports showed the President calling up the National Guard, and placing them around the zoos closest to those already hit: Fort Worth and Dallas to the south, Minneapolis, Milwaukee and Chicago to the north.

Jensen and the rest freed the dragons in Denver, Memphis, and Austin.

And they weren't only hitting zoos. News reports told of black-market breeding operations being attacked and their buildings reduced to rubble. Illegal private collections of millionaires and corporations were revealed, and rumors started that the government had known about those collections, but had turned a blind eye in exchange for money or support.

Since those weren't official collections, there was no way to know how many dragons had been freed. Since there was no way of knowing how many free dragons were out there, there was no way to predict where they'd strike next. The only thing they knew was that the location and frequency of the strikes were increasing exponentially.

They also learned that the dragons didn't care about borders. Zoos in Mexico City, Havana, Nassau, Toronto and Montréal lost their dragons. Within a week hits were reported in Japan and China, northern Europe and South America. A week later, Africa, India and Australia until there was no part of the globe that hadn't lost their caged dragons. Wild dragons came out of hiding in Africa, the Himalayas, off of remote Pacific Islands, South America and parts of the Russian Steppes.

Spain finally got their own dragons back, descendants of those stolen by Joseph Napoleon at the tail end of the Peninsula War. The country shut down for three days as people took to the streets to celebrate.

Protests both for and against the recapture of the creatures grew in size and ferocity. Some of the more religiously fervent brought out crosses and holy water, declaring it was "as if the Devil himself walked among us!" The other side claimed it was finally "the Dawning of the Age of Aquarius" and broke out the sitars and peace pipes. Some old rancher (in Montana, not Wyoming) said that as long as they didn't take his prize bulls and could keep the wolves away from his calves, he was all for free dragons.

"Hell," he said. "My granddaddy told tales of how useful _his_ granddaddy found having a dragon in the area was. I'd welcome them back."

Mr. Collins showed up on talk shows and news broadcasts.

"How do you think they managed to hide these abilities for so long, Dr. Collins?" (Mr. Collins was a _doctor_. That was probably more freaky than anything else Jared had learned over the past month—including the fact that Maybelle in Atlanta wore pink lace panties, owned her own pair of velvet handcuffs, and would love to meet him.)

"Do prisoners ever tell their jailers everything they can do?" Mr. Collins asked and set Mr. Fuller sputtering in indignation.

It was fun watching him do that.

Dad got so tired of chasing reporters and fanatics out of the bushes at their house that he'd moved the family into a hotel in downtown Lawrence close to a police station. That was great until the hotel decided that four people, two dogs, one bird, one gerbil and two turtles violated their occupancy rules.

Dad's university kindly offered them the use of a vacant house on campus; they even agreed to throw in 24-hour security on site. In return for the university's generosity, Jared's family all had to allow themselves to be interviewed by whichever faculty member was doing any kind of research that might in any way be associated with dragons or affected by the freeing of the dragons. Their questions were so similar that Mama wrote out an FAQ to cover the basics. The interviews went much quicker after that.

Despite all the fuss, Jared and Megan went back to school. Jared went back right away, but Megan's school said they couldn't guarantee her safety or privacy, so would her parents please make other arrangements? The university arranged for Megan to finish the year at their affiliated high school with its controlled environment and strict security.

Jared wished his school had done the same as Megan's.

He could barely walk down the hall without being either crushed under a mass of crazy, stalkerish fans screaming "what was he really like?" or beaten to a pulp by those who saw his sudden rise to fame as a threat to their prime jockdom throne. And forget busing it, or walking. He had to be driven to school in one of the campus' squad cars, and his chauffeur doubled as a left tackle during the walk to and from the car, blocking out fans, reporters, and people trying to sell him their services.

It didn't help him blend in.

He'd been weird before—a thick-accented, too-tall Texan boy transferred in in the middle of the year. Now he'd been upped a hundred levels of weird to resident celebrity freak. So Jared did what he'd been doing since January: he smiled when someone talked to him, went "aw, shucks" when it was expected; he answered questions in class and avoided them out of it, and he tried not to trip over his feet.

It was nerve-wracking, and he hated it.

Only two things brightened his days—two _people_ actually. Two fellow students who'd gone neither freakishly fannish, nor mean and snarky.

Gabe Tigerman (called 'Tigger' by nearly everyone) was a goofball in his English Lit class who managed to make him laugh at being shot at, so of course they had to become friends.

The other was Genevieve—Gen—Cortese whose first words to him were, "I hear you named a dragon after me. You know, you could've just asked me out." Which was how Jared found out that the school rumor mill had him crushing on her big time. (It didn't take long for it to become true.)

They all watched the news, of course. Emergency sessions of the U.N. overlapped emergency sessions of Congress, the European Union, the Organization for African Union, and every other multi-country government organization that Jared had never heard of. And it didn't stop with government organizations. Spokespersons from Greenpeace, PETA, WWF, and all the big international wildlife groups started appearing on talk shows, news shows, the Tonight Show supporting the dragons' right to be free. Then came the economists, the climatologists, the anthropologists, and the futurists—and the conspiracy theorists but nobody listened to them anyway.

Jared got asked for interviews. They all did. His mother had stopped accepting substitute positions because all they—the students _and_ staff—wanted her to do was talk about "Her Dragon Adventure." Since she couldn't teach, Mama took over the role of family's media relations person. The first thing she did was print more copies of her FAQ.

"Jared (or whoever)," she'd call when they walked in the door. "There are more requests for interviews. Are you interested?"

"Who from?" he'd ask.

She'd give the list of names and Jared would always consider them, but in the end he always said "no." If it had been Rob asking, he would've done it. His articles had been great. He'd go on Conan O'Brien, too, because his late night show was Jared's favorite.

And Oprah would've been cool.

Mr. Collins (Jared still had a hard time thinking of him as a doctor) became a popular guest, and appeared just about everywhere—TV, newspapers, magazines. In fact, he was well on his way to being voted one of _People's_ Sexiest Men, even though he still looked unshaven, barely washed, and somewhat bemused. He pointed out that it didn't matter what the talking heads said or what the countries had or hadn't done: dragons didn't bother with human politics. "What they care about is the welcome they receive from us."

He also pointed out that, since humans had been wrong about dragons, maybe they were wrong about other things too—like magic, and Bigfoot and Elvis. Nobody knew if he was being serious. From the glint in Mr. Collins' eyes when he said it, Jared would've voted for no. The guy was just seeing how far he could push before somebody called bullshit.

Watching Mr. Collins make fun of the interviewers and their repetitive questions was the best part of watching the news, and since Jared watched the broadcasts compulsively, he would know.

Jared was looking for stories about a bright, green dragon, last seen in San Diego. He worried about where Jensen was, if he was safe, and he wondered if the little dragon had known what a shit-storm he was going to start. Countries were scrambling for ways to replace the status they'd lost by not having captive dragons, and one way they found was to make deals with the few dragons who'd stayed by their cages. Usually those dragons were too old to want to leave the places where they'd lived all their lives, places where they'd be fed and warm and cared for.

"Julunggul didn't say it in words, but she was offering to stick around," the mayor of Beerwah, close to Steve Irwin's Australia Zoo, said when caught in the hall outside the council chambers.

"It's hard to know how to translate the way she talked to us," said a fellow councilor. "But she said she'd do what she could to help us. Do what she could to return it to the way it used to be when my great-great-grandfather was transported here."

"We asked if she'd be wantin' cows or sheep in return," the Mayor responded when asked, "but she said she'd eat rabbits, even the sick ones, the bloody pests, so of course we said 'yes.' We're not bloody stupid. And the PM can just eat his bloody threats."

"And the Yanks, too!" added the councilor.

The snippet went on to detail the pressure that the Australian government (egged on by the U.S. and the British) was putting on the small Australian town. The report ended with a clip of Steve Irwin saying how proud he was that the dragon felt she'd been treated well enough while at his zoo to want to stick around; how the whole town was proud of it, and how they were going to look after their "beauty."

Beerwah may have been the first to openly acknowledge making a deal with a dragon, but they certainly weren't the last. Having a dragon "adopt" an area stopped being something to fear and became something to brag about. New York agreed to let one live in Central Park and the place suddenly became very safe at any time of day or night. London had one that sang counterpoint to the church bells. Called Merlin, despite being female and not in Camelot, she liked to perch on the dragon statue in Temple Bar and let the tourists take pictures of her.

Public opinion forced most countries to back away from the hard line, but it was tried, of course. Other areas watched as Washington and Denver tried to recapture their dragons during negotiations. Didn't work. Somehow the dragons knew and they left in a dramatic, roaring rush.

They left, and no other dragon came to take their place. Washington, Denver, Havana, Beijing, Tel Aviv and Dublin… all lost their chance.

What was worse, like salt-on-wounds worse, was that areas where they'd made deals with the dragons, flourished. Not dramatically. Not right away. They didn't become all sunshine and rainbows, and gold wasn't found in them-thar-hills, but the weather seemed to stabilize. The rain didn't wash away the topsoil, and dry spells ended or weren't as bad. That meant that local crops did better, so local people could eat better at lower prices.

The effect was worldwide, too. The more dragons that found places—safe places—to settle, the more the Earth's weather seemed to settle too.

Global-climate-change doomsayers, when pressed, agreed that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't only industrialization and the petroleum industry causing global climate change. Maybe, they agreed cautiously, just maybe, it had been partly caused by the global repression and decline of the dragon population, a situation that Jensen's bold actions had maybe, just maybe, reversed.

Then they'd backed down by saying it was too early to tell.

"More data needs to be assembled, trends need to be examined," etc., etc., but there was no way to deny that the future of the planet was looking better than it had since greenhouse gases had first made front page news.

Of course, Big Oil liked the idea that the threatened end of the world hadn't been all their fault, so they backed a dragon emancipation initiative started by David Attenborough and David Suzuki. The comedians had a lot of fun with that, of course, because having Exxon Mobil and Greenpeace agree on _anything_ was obviously a sign of the coming Apocalypse.

Still, with that kind of backing (and the politicians' realization that it was too late to stuff the genie back in the bottle) the resolution passed with only a couple countries holding out. The odd thing, the talking heads reported, was that within hours of the voting, any dragons who'd claimed an area in the dissenting countries had disappeared. No one knew how they'd found out about the vote, let alone how they'd _understood_ it, but they had. Mr. Collins said it was another ability that had been repressed by the dragons being imprisoned for five hundred years.

Two months after Jensen's rescue of the Kansas City dragons, the world had completely changed.

Actually, it hadn't changed much, if Jared was honest.

Dragons were still symbols of national virility, but now leaders bragged at how many had been enticed to live within their borders rather than how many were caged within their zoos. Mostly, however, the news was back to talking about the possible effects of Y2K on the global banking and communications network, along with Somalian pirates hijacking a freighter in the Red Sea, and the upcoming presidential elections.

There were endless documentaries discussing history of "human-dragon interaction" and the possible effects on the future, of course, and there were TV shows featuring a boy and his dragon, or a girl and her dragon, saving the world-a kid-a town in each episode. Occasionally there'd be a news story about an actual dragon saving an actual lost hiker, but for the most part, they'd already faded into the background. Part of people's lives, like the sports teams or landmarks they were proud of—when they remembered they were there.

Jared remembered how small and helpless Jensen had allowed himself to appear, how the dragon had soothed him into going along with his plan, and wondered if the quick acceptance of the new status quo was another dragon trick. Hiding in plain sight, like a Cold War spy. He discussed the idea with his daddy a couple times and with Mr. Collins once. They both said it was possible, and then they asked if that was such a bad thing?

Actually, when Jared thought about it, having dragons out of the headlines was a _huge_ improvement—at least for him. He still got whispered about at school, but mostly the other kids had stopped asking for his autograph, or trying to beat him up; rooms didn't fall heavily silent when he walked into them, and weird fan girls had mostly stopped sending him panties in the mail.

Three months after Jensen's rescue of the Kansas City dragons, Dad decided it was safe to go back to their own home. There were still some determined people squatting at the end of their drive, but there was also a trooper sitting there to make sure they didn't do anything _other_ than camp out.

"I can't believe they haven't given up," Megan said, staring out the back window at the… protesters? Fans? Cultists?

"It would probably take a tornado to budge them. Charles—Agent Whitfield –" Dad said as if they didn't know who 'Charles' was by now "–told me that they're hoping to see Jensen."

"I thought he was up in Canada someplace?" Jared asked.

Dad shrugged. "They think he was, but really, all those people saw was a bright green dragon. And that was a few days ago. He could be anywhere by now."

Another thing nobody had realized was just how _fast_ dragons could move. There was one that had settled close to the Navy flight school in Miramar, California (yes, the one in _Top Gun_ ), and she would sometimes come out and fly with the jets. The dragon, immediately (and unimaginatively) named "Maverick," could outfly and out-maneuver all of them, whether full-sized or small.

"Lots of people think he'll be coming back here," Mama added, and a flash of eager hope swept through Jared at the thought of seeing Jensen again.

Jared looked out the window at the fields, green with new growth. In the distance, he could see the trees of the ravine where he'd found Jensen, or where Harley had found him. Before, they'd been dusty and limp; now they looked lush and healthy. All accepted signs that a dragon had claimed the area, but it couldn't be Jensen because Jensen was in Canada.

"His home's in the Rockies," he said, and he rested his head against the glass.

"His home's wherever people invite him to stay," his mama corrected.

From his carrier in the back of the SUV, Harley whined and whuffed as he sensed Jared's distress. Then Olive started squawking, "Poor boy, poor boy," and that set Sadie off.

"Now you've done it, emo kid," Megan huffed, and put her hands over her ears. "This is why we couldn't stay at the hotel, you know!" Megan had liked the hotel; or rather she'd liked one of the doormen. She'd also liked the guy's brother at reception. And then there'd been Room Service Guy. Megan had liked living in the hotel. Mama… not so much.

Soon the vehicle was shaking with noise as the dogs howled and Olive whistled.

"My _Lord_ ," Mama said in prayer and gave her ears a discreet rub. "I used to think there could be nothing louder than living by an Air Force base." Thankfully, they were only minutes away from the house where they could open the doors and escape.

Of course, the noise stopped when the SUV did. It made the quiet seem unnaturally loud.

"I'll let the dogs out; let them run around," Jared said. "Hopefully, that'll keep them distracted."

"They're not the only one who needs distraction," Megan muttered. Jared ignored her, asking the driver to pop the rear door, instead.

Harley and Sadie's carriers were right there, and he could hear their claws scratching as they got ready to be let out. Since there was no way Jared could lift Harley's carrier without a crane, he just released the latch and let Harley do the rest. The big dog barreled out of the vehicle, taking the two-foot-high first step in stride. He made a beeline to the dark-haired woman who was walking out of the house and up the path.

Nothing about her spoke of nerves or fear or anything other than being in complete control. She held up a hand. "Stop," she said. And Harley did.

The dog vibrated under the strain, and his low, deep whining growl was easily heard by everyone, but he held position and let the woman stare at him.

"You're a good dog, aren't you," she said and Harley's tail wagged a little before he remembered that she might be a threat.

"Harley, sit," Dad said, and Harley did that too. "Agent McKeon, I presume." He held out his hand for her to shake.

"Call me Lindsey," the woman said. "I'm a civilian now."

Jared snorted as he let Sadie out of her carrier. Lindsey McKeon was a civilian like Jensen had been a pet. However, considering she'd been recommended by Special Agent Whitfield, Jared wasn't actually surprised.

Sadie, more reserved as usual, waited for the stranger to present herself before she left to check out the boundaries of their territory. Harley looked up at Jared and whined.

"Go on," Jared said with a nod and the big puppy took off after Sadie, exploring the changes nearly three months away had made to their domain.

"The house is in good shape," the former agent said. "I've had it cleaned and restocked as you detailed. I thought the amount of dog food was a misprint when I saw it, but I understand now."

"Precious gets it as a treat, occasionally," Mama said apologetically, as if it was the _gerbil_ that put the amount over the top.

"Were there any more break-ins?" Dad asked. Agent Whitfield had been right about the souvenir hunters. There'd been several attempts right at the beginning, but they'd tapered off. There'd been none in the last two weeks, which was one of the reasons why Dad had decided it was safe to come back.

"Nothing," she answered. "We installed and tested the new security system–" which was the other reason Dad thought it was okay, "–and it worked exactly as it should. Also, local law enforcement got the go-ahead to move the squatters at the end of the drive." She smiled. "The neighbors complained they were a road hazard. No guarantees they'll stay away, but they're already barely a quarter of what they were before. Soon, they won't even remember you."

"Something to look forward to," Jared's dad said with feeling..

"I'll bet," she said. "Do you want me to stay longer?" she asked. "I don't have anything scheduled that can't wait."

"No, that's quite all right, Ms. McKeon," he answered. "We need to get back to normal, rebuild our lives."

The former agent gave them all a sharp nod. "Well, alright then. Here're your new keys; five sets, as requested." She handed over a ring full of shiny new keys. "This is the temporary code for the alarm system. You'll want to change it right away." She handed over a piece of paper. "I hope things go well for you and your family, but if they don't, you have my number."

She shook each of their hands in turn, working her way from oldest to youngest. Then she calmly walked over to her sensible car and slid smoothly behind the wheel. She was gone before the sound of the car door closing had faded.

"Huh," Megan said. "She could've at least helped with the luggage."

"Shut up and start hauling," Jared said, ruffling her hair. She shoved him; he didn't budge, so she tried to punch him instead. He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her back to the SUV while she shrieked in protest. The dogs came back barking and tried to join in the fun. Olive started squawking.

Their mother's sigh was audible over all of it. "Maybe we could go back to the hotel and leave _them_ here."

Megan and Jared grinned at each other.

* * *

  
Once they'd unpacked, Jared learned that his mama wasn't satisfied with the job an anonymous group of underpaid cleaners had done on her home, so the next couple days were spent vacuuming, dusting, and polishing whatever she pointed them at. All the sheets and towels in the hall closet were washed and air-dried ("they'll smell much better afterwards") along with the dishes and the utensils. (Thank God for the dishwasher, was all Jared had to say.)

In between sneezes, Jared recited the stuff he needed to know for his finals. His history course had covered dragons and their place in empire-building. He wondered if they'd be changing those sections after this, but he didn't worry about it. He'd written his history final. Next up was biology.

Dad came down into the basement where Jared was sweeping the floor before mopping it. His father had obviously picked up the mail from the post office, because he was carrying a stack of brown envelopes.

"Jared," he said and his voice was oddly faint.

Jared stopped sweeping. "Dad?"

His dad gave a choked laugh and handed over the envelopes. "More recruitment letters, I think."

Jared looked through them. The first was from the University of Georgia. Their veterinary college was fairly new, but he'd heard good things about it. He flipped to the next. It was from the Ontario Veterinary College at Guelph University… in Canada. Where Jensen was. It was also one of the top three veterinary colleges in the world. He knew because he'd looked it up when the offers had started coming in.

Jared swallowed against a suddenly dry mouth, and flipped to the next one. It was from Glasgow University in Scotland. Also one of the top three, usually switching off the number one spot with Cornell University in New York. His heart stuttered into overdrive. He flipped to the next envelope. Read Ithaca, New York in the corner and everything stalled out.

_Cornell_ …

"Holy shit, Dad," he whispered, feeling hollow. "These are the best veterinary programs _in the world_."

"I know," and his dad's voice was just as low. "I know. And they all want you."

Jared froze. "They all want Jensen, you mean."

"Does it matter?" Dad asked. "You wanted to become a vet. Once you're in, they can't kick you out because Jensen isn't perched on your shoulder."

Jared looked down and the fat envelopes with their fancy crests. "They'll be tough programs."

A large hand landed on his shoulder. "You have the brains for it. The tough part is reaching out for what you truly want."

Just then Sadie went to the door and rang the bell. It was a thing Jared had read about: training your dog to ring a bell on a cord near the door when they needed to go out. Sadie had taken to it easily and rang the bell whenever she felt the need. She rang the bell and, right on cue, the house would echo with the sound of Harley's big paws thumping on the floor as he came running up to join her. The dopey mastiff would never ring the bell for himself, but he knew what it meant when Sadie did it.

"Two trained for the price of one." Jared smiled at his dad, grateful for the interruption.

"Why don't you take them for a walk," Dad said. "Watch them run around for a bit and let yourself think about things."

Jared's smile turned brighter at the suggestion. He rested the broom against the wall and ran upstairs.

"Mama! I'm gonna take the dogs out for a walk, okay?" he called to her as he put the university envelopes down on the counter. He piled them neatly. Then stared at them as if they were going to explode.

"Alright, Jared," she shouted back from the pantry where she sorting and cleaning. "Take the leashes."

She always said that, worried that Jared might run into someone who was afraid of Sadie and Harley's size. It had made sense back home in San Antonio, but up here, their nearest neighbor was three long miles away.

Nonetheless, Mama had asked, so Jared obediently grabbed the prepared backpack and slung it over his shoulder. The dogs knew what that meant a walk and not just being let out into the backyard, so they started jiggling happily. Harley's tail hit the wall with a high-speed, high-powered "thwap, thwap, thwap."

Jared nudged Harley away from it with his knee—he couldn't open it if there was a mini-behemoth standing behind it—and then they were off.

It was early in June, and the sun was out. A light breeze kept the temperature in the mid-70s. The air smelled of green growing things. It was perfect.

They owned five full acres of land but most of it was leased to a nearby farmer who was, Jared had been informed, growing soybeans. Long lines of the low, bushy plants stretched out, looking both fluid and geometric. Mama had specified that the guy use only organic fertilizers and pesticides on his crops, so Jared didn't worry when the dogs wandered into the fields following a scent.

The envelopes today weren't the only ones he'd received. The strangest was the one from Bangledesh, but he'd also received offers from colleges in Australia and Europe and of course, America. He'd received a package from A & M University in Texas that he was seriously considering because, well, it was in _Texas_ , and he still missed his home state, but for whatever reason, all those invitations had always seemed casual, as if Jared could accept then change his mind later, no problem. But now he was getting offers from the biggest names in veterinary medicine and it didn't seem casual anymore.

This was his future, and it was racing toward him like a freight train.

He walked the narrow path along the edge of the field all the way to the ravine. There was a creek at the bottom, and no easy way to get to it from this side, since the raspberry bushes were thick and thorny, but it was still nice to walk in the shade of the trees that grew along its banks.

Jared stepped closer to the brambles, carefully brushing aside the leaves to check on the growing fruit. It was still mostly green, but it looked like it was coming along nicely. Mama already had warned them that they were going to be out here with buckets when the fruit was ripe for picking. Just the thought of slipping the fresh, juicy fruit into his mouth had him salivating in anticipation.

He wondered if Jensen would like raspberries, and decided that he probably would have.

Jensen had reached out for what he wanted. Torn wing, half-dead, and alone aside from a couple of dogs and a half-deaf human, he'd reached out and taken his future—wherever it was.

Going to Cornell, or even Glasgow, couldn't be half as frightening as standing under a Plexiglas roof while two huge dragons broke it apart.

The dogs were ranging out ahead after having chased a crow from tree branch to tree branch. The way the bird had flown _just far enough_ to keep them running after it made Jared think of the way he used to hold stuff out of his sister's reach. Who knew birds could be teases? It was fun to watch them, though. They looked happy. Happy with simple pleasures.

Jared followed them, petting Harley when he ran back to bark at him, telling him to hurry up. He followed them even though it meant they were farther east than he'd intended. After all, there was a lot of work to do on the house, and he still had finals to study for.

Still, it was a beautiful day, and he had a lot of thinking to do.

This was the part of the ravine where they'd found Jensen. Or rather, where Harley had found him. If it hadn't been for his mutt-puppy's curiosity, Jensen would've lain there and bled to death without anyone ever knowing. Without him, all the other captive dragons would have died, too. All that beauty and wonder, lost to the world.

Jared decided to give the big dog an extra treat when they got home.

He whistled for them to come back, but Harley and Sadie just barked at him. They also started jumping back and forth, first bending down then hopping back up. It was as if they'd found something—something they wanted Jared to look at.

And this was the part of the ravine where they'd found Jensen…

Jared started running.

As soon as he did, they settled down. Still excited, tails wagging so hard their whole bodies were shifting with the force, but they'd stopped jumping and barking.

What the…

Suspicion sent a wave of cold fire over his skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake and his panicked run broke down into a lumpy trot. It couldn't be.

Could it?

Then he heard the familiar chuffing croak that was Jensen's laugh and he knew—he _knew_ —he was going to cry.

"Jensen?" He peered into the shadows to see Jensen, bright green and back to being the size of an iguana. "Oh my god, Jensen! You're looking good," he beamed.

Jensen stood up and spread his wings, chittering in protest.

"You're right," Jared amended. "You look fantastic." Not that Jared could really tell, what with everything getting so blurry all of a sudden.

The squawking sound that came from the dragon was filled with joy and Jared knew Jensen was happy to see him too. When Jen launched himself at Jared, Jared laughed and lifted his arm to give the dragon a broader target.

Jen landed and released a flood of emotions. There were too many for Jared to catalogue, but excitement, pride, anticipation, joy, wonder, hope—they were all part of it. There was so much that the dogs started barking again.

"Hey, hey," Jared chuckled, wiping his eyes. "Slow down there, dude. We got lots of time."

Deliberately, Jensen filled his air sacs then he held it a second, two, before letting it all out.

It made Jared laugh. "You wanna share a banana? I brought one with me."

The excited chirp was all Jared needed to be taking off the backpack, Jensen hovering a little bit away now his perch was moving. Pictures filled his mind, of bananas and sausages, mango and _coffee_.

"If you want that stuff, you'll have to come to the house," Jared responded without thought. "Olive would love to see you, and of course, everyone else."

Jensen chirped, and it sounded hesitant.

"What?" Then it occurred to Jared that Jensen was probably intruding on some other dragon's territory by being here. Sure, Lawrence hadn't made an announcement about being invited to partner with a dragon, but maybe they'd been included in the territory covered by Topeka's dragon. Nobody except the dragons seemed to know the territorial boundaries. (A fact that was driving politicians and bureaucrats nuts since there were eight cross-border dragons along the U.S.-Canadian border and three more shared with Mexico.)

"Is it safe for you to be here?" he asked, hands stilling in the backpack. There hadn't been any reports of dragons fighting over territory and he didn't want the first time to happen close to him.

_Safe. Always safe. All safe._ Jared heard, or saw, or felt. There was a picture of their farmhouse to go along with it. It was surrounded by dragons, relaxed dragons—who were playing with his dogs.

"Um," Jared tried to wrap his head around it. "Are you saying our house is a kind of neutral zone? Like Switzerland?

_Safe. Cared for. Protected._ Jensen was being carried, bathed, wrapped and fed by Jared. Then there was a tiny unknown dragon being chased by… shadows, a threat of some kind, flying desperately to Jared's door and being taken in and sheltered.

Jared rocked back on his heels. "Oh wow," he whispered. "We're a safe house? That's, that's… I think we'd be honored."

Jensen chirped in agreement.

How was he going to explain having random terrified and/or injured dragons showing up at their door to his mama? Then he gave a mental shrug; she'd figure it out if it happened.

The dragon chirped again, but this time there was a question in his tone.

"Huh?" was Jared's completely unhelpful response. The images came again. Tiny green dragon waiting on the porch, waiting; waiting until a larger green dragon came to take him home.

"O-oh! _Baby_ dragons," Jared said. "You want to know if baby dragons could come to us if they were in trouble, like a Block Parent."

Jensen tipped his head, and trilled a question.

"What's a Block Parent? Oh, hm. It's a family in a neighborhood that kids can go to if they're in trouble or in danger or if they need emergency help. Someplace safe," Jared explained. "That's what you want, right?"

Jensen chirped firmly.

"Oh, yeah. Sure," Jared said. "I'm sure we won't have a problem with it." Except for the fact that baby dragons were probably really cute, so it might be hard to get his sister to let them go.

Jensen whistled.

Moments later, a small dragon appeared at the edge of the bushes. Her colors were muted but her pattern was sharp and clear; that's how Jared knew it was a 'she'.

She flew slowly, ready to retreat. Harley jumped up, barking in excitement, and she bounced up into the sky, to hover at nearly twice Jared's height—safe from exited, giant dogs.

Jensen hissed at Harley, an angry, cutting sound. The big mastiff immediately fell to his belly, whining in contrition.

At Jensen's reassuring chirrup, the young female came back down. She flew through a patch of sunlight, and in that moment, she glowed a dark, soft red. She also looked decided _round_ in the tummy.

"Is that… Is she…" Jared pointed. "She's from the zoo, right? Danielle? Danneel, something like that. She looks, um, pregnant. I thought captive-born dragons were, y'know, infertile."

_Caged. Dark. Trapped._ Jared could feel the walls sitting too close. He could taste the pale, recycled air. Even the food was bland and lifeless.

"So all those filters and safeguards they put in place to keep dragons safe from World War Three were actually killing them?"

_Free. Healthy. Whole._ Jensen chirruped in agreement.

"And she is pregnant. Wait," he said. "Are _you_ the daddy?"

Jensen whistled and called, and flew around in excited circles before landing on an old fencepost. He perched on it like a cat, tail wrapping around his paws.

Jared's grin became painfully wide. " _Dude_! Fast work."

_Hunt for Mama. Caged dragons everywhere._ Images from when Jensen was peering into enclosure after enclosure, looking for his mama. _Look. Look. Ask._

He was looking into a dragon enclosure, asking the dragons being held there if they recognized his mama. One of them flew up, maybe to hear better, maybe because she was curious, but she got close enough for their eyes to meet, and Jared felt a second-hand "zing."

"Love at first sight?" Jared managed to ask even as his jaw dropped to the ground.

Jensen chirped assent.

"You staged that escape, so you could get the girl?" Jared confirmed. Jensen's purring croak was bashful, but he flared his ruff. Jared burst out laughing. "Oh man, that's _awesome_! We have _got_ to introduce her to my mama."

_Safe. Protected?_ Again, the image of Jared's home as seen by a dragon filled his mind.

"You bet, 'safe-protected,'" Jared replied. He held out his arm to the young female. "In fact, we'll start now. If the mother-to-be would care for a ride, I've got sausages at home."

Danneel made a soft, questioning noise at Jensen.

Jensen chirped back what was obviously a positive response because the female dragon flew over and landed on his arm with only a little hesitation. Jen chirped at her and she moved up to Jared's shoulder, tucking her tail around his neck to give herself some stability.

"Cool." Jared broke off a piece of the banana and offered it. Danneel sniffed, and then accepted the offering.

_Coffee?_ came the hopeful projection from Jensen.

Jared laughed. "Yeah, Jen. We'll find you some coffee."

He'd walked a couple steps before a thought occurred to him. "Wait… 'safe-protected'? Does that mean you'll be staying in Lawrence? Did we just make a treaty?"

The female on his shoulder trilled in question. Jensen chirped back at her.

_Females nest_. Jensen explained. _Male_ _s_ _visit, roam, protect._

Jared blinked. He thought of all the settled dragons he knew of: Julunggul, who'd been the first in Australia. She was female. Merlin in London, was also female. The Notre Dame in Paris had its Esmeralda, and Loretta was still in Kansas City. All the settled dragons he could think of were all female.

"So male dragons don't settle down?" he asked, thinking of a map colored with wolves territories, with boundaries all carefully marked out.

Jensen gave him an image of a small group of male dragons, moving around, visiting the settled females in their territories. Protecting, when needed, but mostly just visiting for company and procreation.

_Partners. Friends._

"Prides," Jared supplied the word but both Jensen and Danneel burped in contempt.

Lions, Jensen informed him, had 'prides,' males ruling a harem—Danneel hissed. Killing offspring not theirs—Danneel hissed even louder. _Partners. Friends. Agreements._ Jensen repeated.

"Okay, so you're not quite as crude as lions," Jared laughed at him. "So not prides. How about 'dignities'? Dignities of Dragons, what d'you think?"

Jensen chuffed. Danneel burped.

"Okay, so we'll work on the group name," Jared conceded. "But does that mean _Danneel_ will be staying in Lawrence?"

Jensen chirped agreement.

"But what about you? I mean, I know you're going to be a dad, so where will you stay? Are you going back to your mama?" Jared asked. "You did find her, didn't you?"

Jensen huffed, as if to say 'of course I did'. Then he showed Jared the old cowboy waiting in that same gully by a fire. A young man, obviously related, stood by the horses. Jared watched through Jensen's memories, as Doña, in her miniaturized form, flew up to the man and settled on his shoulder. The old cowboy reached up and let his fingertips run gently down her tail.

"It's good to see you again, Doña _mia._ " The guy's voice cracked. "It good to have you home."

Jared's eyes pricked and he blinked to clear them. "I'm glad. Really glad," he said. He cleared his throat. "But you're not staying with her, right?" he asked.

A picture of Jared's house appeared. Then a picture of Jared's bed with Jared lying in it. It was from when Jared had found the dragon—he recognized the T-shirt as one that he'd outgrown that same month. Jared could feel the dragon walk over the soft blanket to settle in next to the human body. He could feel how warm Jensen had thought him. Jensen looked into Harley's eyes and knew the dog was happy and safe here, and he knew he would be, too.

_Partners. Friends._

Jared smiled. "Yeah, that's cool." Then he remembered: Glasgow, Guelph, and all the offers that had poured in.

Jensen quirked his head, and Jared saw Harley jumping and barking like a mad thing. Then, with a whistle, he was sitting. _Dog trainer?_

Jared laughed out loud. "Oh yeah."

_Teacher._

This time Jared's mind was flooded with images of things Jensen had learned while he'd been looking for his mama—cars, planes, people everywhere, wind turbines, railroads, talking, talking, talking but making no sense.

_I learn human things. I teach dragon things._

Dragons who didn't know how to fly, didn't know how to 'talk' to humans. Humans who didn't understand that dragons didn't actually eat whole cows…

Jensen sitting on Jared's shoulder while the human read books aloud. Jensen talking while Jared wrote it all down in human-speak. Dragons showing up at Jared's house, sitting on the railing on the back porch, listening while Jensen chirped at them. Humans watching while Jared explained what Jensen was saying.

_Dragon. Dragon-speaker. Partners. Friends. Learn-teach. Teach-learn._

Jared couldn't say anything. He couldn't think. Couldn't…

"Oh wow." Jared whispered.

_Accept?_ Jensen chirruped uncertainly.

Jared swallowed. This was… This was huge! So much bigger than going to Cornell. So much bigger than anything he'd ever read in any of the dragon legends. It was nothing he could ever have imagined back when he'd realized that he wasn't holding a lizard. He'd be blazing a new path, exposing new knowledge and creating new legends.

Did he want it?

He snorted. Of course, he wanted it. It was exactly what he'd been waiting for. How could he settle for anything less?

_Partners. Friends,_ he thought back. "Now let's go have coffee and sausage to celebrate."

Jensen's healthy roar was the best sound Jared had heard in a long, long time.


	7. Notes

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

  
  
HIS IS WHAT COMES from discovering spnnightcrawler's dragon post and being reminded of a picture prompt for last year's spn_reversebang that looked like fun. (That I was also stuck on my other stories is something we will not mention.)

Written for the 2012 spn_j2_bigbang, so kudos have to go to the wonderful mods: **thehighwaywoman** and **wendy**. Kudos also to **paleogymnast** and **slightlysatanic** for their work in the omgspnbigbangsite. Y’all are awesome, seriously.

Less than a month before posting day, my original artist had to step down. Nearly the same day, the mods gave me the name of my pinch-hit artist: **sophiap** It was unbelievable how quickly she had drafts for me to look at--and they were good, too. Now, I can write. I can (sometimes) carry a tune. I can even draw moderately okay when needed (and given lots of time). I do not have the kind of talent that creates, from scratch, the awesome that is sophiep's illustrations. Thank you, ever so much. =]  


  
**ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS** :

**Betas** :

Once again, **rince1wind*** and **alecto nyx** stepped up to polish, buff, bully, and correct all the things that got by me. This is, quite honestly, much better because of their help and support. _Arigatou!_

To **caz2y5** , **leisa** , **phoenix** , **vyperdd** , **nova_lies** , **siehn** who answered my calls for help with non-Canadian speech patterns and other related stuff: _thank y'all_. I really do need to travel more. =}  


**RESEARCH NOTES:**

**Bureau of Diplomatic Security:**

The Diplomatic Security Service _does_ exist. It is part of the State Department, and since dragons are symbols of state, I thought it appropriate that the DSS would investigate, secure, and protect U.S. dragons whether found in zoos or lying around in ravines.

_The Bureau of Diplomatic Security (DS) is the political face and parent organization of the U.S. Diplomatic Security Service (DSS). The DSS consists of the 2,000 Special Agents charged with protection of visiting foreign dignitaries and U.S. diplomatic missions overseas. The DSS is the primary conduit utilized by the Bureau of Diplomatic Security and the Department of State for the majority of all security and law enforcement matters._  


**Dragon Lore**

Australia: In terms of serendipity, Julunggul is an Australian aboriginal goddess who oversees the transformation of boys into men. In other words, she helps people change and grow up. Considering that’s exactly what happened to society when her proposal was accepted, (like the reasonable deal it was) it sounded like a good fit to me. =]  


London: The City of London does indeed have dragons in its coat of arms, and statues of dragons scattered around its borders. I did not know this when I gave London a dragon. (Thanks to Rea, for pointing it out.) However, hard as I looked, I could find no reference to the dragons having been given nicknames. If they do, I apologize for calling mine 'Merlin'. It just sounded like something people would do.  


  
**INSPIRATIONAL PICTURES:**

These are the pictures I kept close by when I was writing. They were my inspirations, but the only ones I sent to sophiap were Jared with Harley and Sadie, Jared's T-shirt pic, and the little flying dragon which is a decal I purchased from [leononlinebox](http://www.ebay.ca/itm/Dragon-Golden-Metal-Tribal-Decal-Vinyl-Car-Wall-Laptop-Cellphone-Sticker-/230821019083?pt=LH_DefaultDomain_2&hash=item35be013dcb).

| [](http://pics.livejournal.com/etrix/pic/0005y1e1/)  
---|---  
[](http://pics.livejournal.com/etrix/pic/00060w2y/) | [](http://pics.livejournal.com/etrix/pic/0005rcy9/)  
[](http://pics.livejournal.com/etrix/pic/0005s23h/) | [](http://pics.livejournal.com/etrix/pic/0005tt4e/)  
[](http://pics.livejournal.com/etrix/pic/0005wr4y/) | [](http://pics.livejournal.com/etrix/pic/0005kbyf/)  
[](http://pics.livejournal.com/etrix/pic/0005p2tx/) | [](http://pics.livejournal.com/etrix/pic/0005xteg/)


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